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THE LIBRARY OF CHOICE FICTION. ISSUED MONTHLY. BY SUBSCRIPTION, $6 PER ANNUM < *4 < 

t»> > >> >> NO, 25, JULY, 1891, ENTERED AT CHICAGO POST OFFICE AS SECOND-CLASS MATTE 


CHICAGO 

LAIRD K LEE, Pub/^hers 












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3 


THE LIBRARY OE CHOICE EICTION 

_Jl^_ _ _____ 


Her Sister’s Rival 


BY 

Albert Delpit 

Author of “Such is Life/’ etc. 


Translated from the French by 

Alexina Loranger 


IlllustrateO 



CHICAGO 

LAIRD & LEE, PUBLISHERS 
1891 


‘O 






T2-3 

H" 



'Entered according to act of Congress, in the year 1891, by’ Laird & Lee 
in the oitice of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 


HER SISTER’S RIVAL 


“ Then you are ruined ? ” 

“Nearly so. I have squandered two mil¬ 
lions in four years ! But I don’t regret it; I 
have had my money’s worth ! ” 

“That depends on tastes, my dear Maurice. 
How could you amuse yourself with those 
sporting men and painted women? ” 
Maurice quietly puffed his cigarette for a 
few minutes in silence, then replied with a 
peculiar smile: 

“Well! you see, my dear Robert, it is not 
so important to amuse } r ourself as to believe 
that you are amusing yourself. Is not life a 
continual competition ? Two or three of my 
friends kept racers; so I must have a stable 


8 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


—an expensive luxury, I assure you! But 
that was nothing. You know that for the 
last two years I have had the reputation of 
having ‘ the costliest women in Paris! ’ 
This stupid phrase pleased me. I am vain, 
and my vanity was agreeably flattered. 
Then if you would add to women and racing, 
baccara and speculation.” 

“ Yes, it goes fast! And you do not include 
Clotilde in your enumeration! Nevertheless, 
500,000 francs a year is a goodly sum. 
Have you nothing left ? ” 

“ Oh! yes. I have still an income of 20,000 
francs. Not much, it is true; but at least, 
an independent and dignified existence.” 

“Then, I understand you less and less. 
You are thirty years of age; you are not— 
fortunately—what we might call a ruined 
man; you have many friends, a foothold in 
society. More than enough to make life 
agreeable! So why should you bury your¬ 
self in the country ? ” 

“ Oh! I am weary of this life.” 

“ As bad as that? ” 

“And, besides, I am tired of doing noth¬ 
ing. Ah! how foolish I was to allow myself 
to sink in this Parisian mire! ” 

Robert Traville made a mocking gesture. 




HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


9 


“You are like all idlers,” he replied. 
“Question the hardworker, he will praise 
the charms of indolence.” 

“True enough. Perhaps I shall weary of 
work, but at least I will make an attempt 
to be useful—” 

“Maurice! Indeed you are too droll.” 
And as if to accentuate those words, Robert 
threw himself on the lounge and burst into a 
merry laugh. 

Maurice de Fonde possessed the faults and 
qualities of the young men of to-day. He 
combined a great deal of simplicity with a 
great deal of skepticism. Our fathers have 
committed so many follies that the present 
generation has a certain disgust of life before 
even having any knowledge of it. Most of 
us practice a respectful indifference in 
religious matters; scarcely give a thought to 
politics. A few, through tradition or grati¬ 
tude, believe themselves obliged to have an 
opinion; others shrug their shoulders with 
ennui when the King, or the Republic, is men¬ 
tioned. Are they much to blame ? They can 
so easily enumerate on their fingers the 
numerous regimes that have succeeded each 
other in the last century! 

Maurice’s great-grand-father was simply 



10 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


called M. Defon, in one single word. About the 
year 1807 he conceived the ingenious idea of 
erecting a bathing establishment on the Rue 
Saint-Honore. Were the people of the first 
empire wanting in delicacy ? However that 
may be, this house was the first, or, at least, 
one of the first, which was furnished with 
relative luxury. Unwittingly, the bathing 
master had executed a masterly stroke, and 
so amassed wealth rapidly. A true royalist, 
despising heartily his Majesty, the Emperor 
and King, he devoted himself to the cause to 
some purpose. He was a liberal contributor 
to all royalist schemes. After the Russian 
campaign, the bathing establishment of the 
Rue Saint-Honor^ became one of the 
asylums which sheltered the conspiracy of 
1814, jin which the Baron de Vitrolles was 
involved, and where the conspirators were 
prudentty hidden from the sharp eyes of the 
Fouch£ and Savary. About the same time, 
M. Defon’s younger brother fled to the 
United States to evade military service. 
When Louis XVIII. ascended the throne, he 
remembered the humble Parisian bourgeois, 
who had remained more faithful to the Mon¬ 
archy than many aristocrats who had 
enlisted in the service of the usurper. The 




HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


11 


shrewd king summoned the old man to the 
Tuileries, and judged him at a glance: 

“You have proved your devotion in peril¬ 
ous times,” said the merry monarch, “a re¬ 
ward is due you. What do you desire? ” 

Although quite overcome by the Bour- 
bonian splendors, the bathing master had 
sufficient presence of mind to anwer mod¬ 
estly : 

“I have only done my duty, Sire, and I ask 
nothing.” 

“ Decidedly, you area man de fonds —Mon¬ 
sieur Defon,” exclaimed Louis, who was an 
inveterate punster. 

“Your Majesty has himself expressed my 
most ardent wish,” said the bathing master, 
bowing low. 

“Bah! What is it?” 

“I want to be authorized to call myself 
‘ Defon 1 in two words.” 

‘ ‘ Another one who w ants the de ! ” laughed 
Louis XVJII., as he turned to his secretary. 
“ I consent. Onty be sure to tack it on both 
before and behind ! ” 

And thus it was that Monsieur Defon, pro¬ 
prietor of the bathing establishment, Rue 
Saint-Honor^,became M. de Fonde as big as 
life. 



12 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


There is still a nobility; there is no longer 
any aristocracy. The aquatic origin of the 
family was soon forgotten. Maurice’s 
grand-father and father increased the fortune 
left by the bathing master; and as those 
who combine the reality of fortune to the 
appearance of nobility are always welcome 
in the Faubourg, everybody smiled on the 
newcomer. However, he was careful not to 
abuse the privilege. Society wearied Mau¬ 
rice. He preferred the race course, the high- 
class demi-monde and the coulisses of the 
small theaters. Occasional visits at the club 
maintained his relations with his more digni¬ 
fied comrades, whom he did not meet any¬ 
where else. 

But all things have an end. After a series 
of wild extravagances, the young man 
realized that it was time to turn over a new 
leaf. This man of thirty was not wanting 
in cleverness and intelligence. He was well 
aware that these are terribly practical days. 
Formerly, a man was still considered some¬ 
thing through the money he had spent; to¬ 
day, he is worth only the money he possesses. 
The world in which we live—that world 
which is passing away—ignores pity and 
cultivates only egotism. 




HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


13 


Maurice had calculated all this. And, un¬ 
mindful of Robert Traville’s sarcasm, he 
replied very quieth r : 

‘‘My dear friend, with an income of six¬ 
teen or eighteen thousand francs, one is 
either poor or rich. If I remain in Paris, I 
can not abandon my present mode of life 
without humiliation. Imagine me leaving 
the Avenue de Messine for a cheap, eccentric 
and vuglar quartier. Of course, I could do 
like so many others. But my courage fails 
me. Better break off at once from habits I 
can no longer afford. While in the country, 
on the contrary, I shall be almost rich. I 
possess an old castle in the depths of Mor- 
van, which my father had the bad taste of 
buying many years ago. I believe it is con¬ 
sidered a beautiful piece of architecture; as 
for me, I find that mushroom nest simply 
frightful. Still, with a few bank notes, an 
architect can make five or six rooms quite 
habitable. And I will harvest my wheat 
and gather my vintage; furthermore I shall 
be conseiller municipal. How delightful! 
Just think! A change of existence! We are 
all like circus horses; we stupidly go round 
and round in an invariable track! I am 
out of the race—I must re-enter the stable! 
Waiter, the bill! ” 



14 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


It was a beautiful afternoon in May; and 
the two young men having finished their 
breakfast at the Caft Riche, mingled with the 
oscillating throng hurrying along the boule¬ 
vard. 

“ Two o’clock already,” said Maurice, look¬ 
ing at his watch. “Where do you go, Robert ? ” 

“ It is Jenny’s hour.” 

“ How is Jenn}^? ” 

“ Quite well; she is growing stout. Apro¬ 
pos, have you told the fatal news to—” 

“To Clotilde? Not yet.” 

“Then it is. high time! I suppose you 
have no intention of taking her to that 
mushroom nest you spoke of? ” 

M. de Fonde sighed, and a shade of sad¬ 
ness came into his eyes. 

“How amusing it would be,” continued 
Robert, in the same bantering tone. “ I can 
imagine the amazement of the bourgeois 

of-. What do you call the large town 

near your chateau?” 

“ Arnay-le-Comte.” 

“Ah! Well, I can imagine the amazement 
of the bourgeois of Arnay-le-Comte when 
you make your solemn entry into the town! 
Clotilde, with her red hair dressed a la chien 
would paralyze the natives.” 





HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


15 


Once started in this vein, Traville gave free 
scope to his imagination. He described the 
splendors of Mademoiselle Clotilde Veronese 
—her true name was Francoise Clampin—sud¬ 
denly transformed into a chatelaine.* Then 
again, he portrayed Clotilde Veronese meta¬ 
morphosed into a Louis XV. shepherdess, 
leading her white lambs over the prairie. 

Maurice was still silent. In the great 
liquidation of his Parisian life, a single regret 
pierced his heart. He must leave this pretty 
mistress whom he had so much loved for a 
few months. 

“ Excuse me, my dear friend,” said Robert, 
suddenly checking himself; “ I jested with¬ 
out perceiving that you suffered. We have 
been friends so long that I know you better 
than you know yourself. I have never 
spoken of Clotilde until now, because we are 
not of the same nature. I distrust women; 
you—you swallow all they tell you ! I am 
indifferent to Jenny, and you are serious with 
Clotilde.” 

“Alas!” retorted Maurice with a smile. 
“I always took my mistresses au serieux— 
and yet, I am not an imbecile.” 

“It may be on that account,” murmured 
Traville, after a short silence. 



16 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


“ Will you dine at the club ? ” asked Robert, 
as they stopped opposite the Madeleine. 

“Yes.” 

“ Then I shall see you this evening. Go to 
Clotilde; I am going to Jenny. I believe in 
nothing, you believe in everything. You are 
affectionate through temperament; I am 
skeptical through vocation. Which of us is 
the happier? ” 




When Francoise Clampin left the Con¬ 
servatoire she secured an engagement at the 
Vaudeville. She at once assumed the name 
of Clotilde Veronese, and threw herself into 
the gay world. As might be expected, she 
had ups and downs—rich one day and poor 
the next. A Russian diplomat began the 
fortune of the young woman, and many 
others continued it. When Maurice de 
Fonde met her, she was rich enough to live 
on her income. Her last lover, M. Edmond 
Sorbier, had not discarded her without pay¬ 
ing an enormous forfeit. These amiable 
creatures possess the agreeable faculty of 
recuperating very fast; and though Clotilde 
believed herself inconsolable over the loss of 
Edmond, she as easily fell in love with 
Maurice. 


18 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


She inhabited a charming little dwelling 
on the Rue Ampere, which she owed to the 
generosity of M. Sorbier. For six months 
M. de Fonde visited her almost every day at 
two o’clock, and spent a part of the after¬ 
noon with her. But notwithstanding his 
assiduity, did she believe him faithful ? Did 
s he know she was deceived ? Undoubtedly. 
Then why did she not complain? Simply 
because in liaisons of that kind there are 
many returns for one loan. However, 
Maurice pleased her by his natural tender¬ 
ness, the generosity of his heart, and the 
loyalty of his conduct. He was more than 
handsome. His fine brown head resembled 
that of the Cavalier couche of Velasquez in 
the musee at Madrid. Of medium height, 
elegant and well built, he displayed in all his 
gestures the vigorous grace of his body. 
Being a skillful shot, he had fought many 
duels, and no one ever attempted to quarrel 
with him, as these encounters had always 
ended favorably for him. An observer would 
have remarked the strange brightness of 
his dark eyes, which expressed as much 
weakness as energy. Men who truly 
love women are usually of undecided char¬ 
acters. 



HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


19 


“ All! here you are at last! ” cried Clotilde 
as Maurice entered. 

“Am I late? ” he asked. 

“Not atall,mylittle darling; but I wanted 

to see you so much! If you only knew-” 

She stopped as if embarrassed; and while 
she finished braiding her long hair, the young 
man devoured her with his eyes. What was 
her age ? Her face accused twenty-five 
years; the register of her birth gave her ten 
years more. Small, white and rosy, Clotilde 
charmed at once by her graceful manners, 
the frank gaiety of her blue eyes, and 
her mischievous smile. Neither plump nor 
thin, just right, like a quail in September. 
Her patrician hands, however, were her 
greatest beauty; they were long and slender, 
as if a few drops of blue blood flowed in her 
veins. She had the reputation of being 
witty, and deserved it. Her parents, humble 
bourgeois of Evreux, placed her at an 
early age in a convent at Senlis. Both 
dreamed for their daughter “a first-class” 
education—prospectus style—which would 
fit Frangoise to become an officer’s wife. 
Why? M. Clampin, when questioned on 
this burning subject, answered gravely: 
“Sir, I am a Bonapartist. I admire the 



30 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


great Emperor. Never will I accept a son* 
in-law affiliated to this infamous government. 
A soldier serves only his countr-r-r-y! ”— 
(with three r’s.) 

And after delivering himself of this pomp¬ 
ous declaration, M. Clampin would stick 
two fingers in his redingote like his favorite 
hero. At eighteen, Frangoise lost her mother, 
and six months later the Clampin heiress 
realized the family dream. She gave her 
hand to an officer—but it was the left hand. 
Weary of her convent life, she eloped with a 
lieutenant in the cavalry. This was such a 
violent shock to the bourgeois of Evreux 
that he fell into an apoplectic fit. 

That good education, however, was of 
great assistance to the young girl in building 
her fortune. Determined to become wealthy, 
she employed every means to attain her aim. 
What an aim! 

“ Sit down near me, my little darling,” she 
said to Maurice. “Are you in a mood for 
conversation ? ” 

“ Why—yes.” 

“ But you look very queer to-day.” 

They looked at each other for a few mo¬ 
ments, embarrassed; he by the confession he 
had to make, she by a thought still unknown 
to him. 





HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


21 


“Tell me, my little darling,” she resumed, 
“you have nothing to reproach your Clo- 
tilde, have you ? ” 

“ Why such a question ? ” 

“You know, I have always been a good 
girl. I did my best to make you happ}^. 
You often told me that I was of a gay char¬ 
acter, easily pleased. And, above all, not 
jealous ! Oh! don’t shake your head ; I know 
your little treacheries. But I forgive them 
because I love you. On my side, I have 
nothing to reproach myself. I have been 

faithful since the very first day-” 

Even if caught in the act, a woman will 
always swear “ on her mother’s soul ”—that 
never—never— 

“Therefore,” continued Clotilde, “I am 
better than you. Which of us two did as he 
pleased ? You know very well that I always 
obeyed you. If it pleased you to go out, I 
went out. If you wished to remain home, 
I remained.” 

Maurice was looking at her, more and more 
perplexed. What was she coming to with all 
these preparations? The young man knew 
that when a mistress sings her own praises, 
it is time to beware of her 

“I do not insist,” resumed Clotilde; “you 





22 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


would think that I wanted to give myself 
value; on my side, I was perfectly happy 
also. Only, because of you, I could not real¬ 
ize my dream.” 

“Bah!” 

“To get married.” 

Maurice was startled. 

“What, my dear, you want to get mar¬ 
ried ? ” he said with mocking irony. 

“Your astonishment is not very flatter¬ 
ing,” said Clotilde, assuming an air of dig¬ 
nity worthy of a tragedy queen. “ I believe 
I am a very good match. I have an income 
of fifty thousand francs.” 

“Accept my congratulations! You are 
three times as rich as I am,” he interposed. 

Clotilde stopped short, astounded at this 
unexpected revelation. With the extraord¬ 
inary mobility of her mind, she forgot to 
pout any longer. 

‘ ‘ What! you are ruined, my little darling?” 
she exclaimed. 

“Almost.” 

“Almost? Oh! I feared you had nothing 
left to live on.” 

She said this giddily, without even suspect¬ 
ing her simple egotism. 

“Then what will you do? ” she added. 





HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


23 


M. de Fonde now felt quite at his ease. It 
is always painful for a gallant man to leave 
a woman. An hour previous, Maurice suf¬ 
fered at the thought of losing this pretty 
mistress; but Clotilde’s announcement sim¬ 
plified matters. 

“I came to tell you the bad news,” he re¬ 
joined, “but I see that we are two at 
the game. You are going to marry, and I 
am retiring to the province; we are both 
making an end of it. Now that you know 
all that concerns me, tell me your own little 
story. Who are you going to marry ? ’ ’ 

“Doctor Brack.” 

‘ ‘ That quack ! Why, you have only known 
him two weeks.” 

“That’s the spice of the adventure. You 
remember what a bad sore throat I had two 
weeks ago ? Well, having heard that he was 
a skillful Homeopathist, I sent for him and 
he cured me within twenty-four hours. 
Then he came back a week later to declare 
his flame—his I retorted by 

offering him the right hand instead of the 
left. And he took both! So we came to an 
understanding; and here we are.” 

So the two lovers could bear no grudge 
against each other. Clotilde was not leav- 



24 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


ing Maurice, and Maurice was not abandon¬ 
ing Clotilde. It was a reciprocal freedom. 
In love everything was for the best when 
self-love is satisfied. 

“You will permit me to offer you a wed¬ 
ding gift before I leave?” said M. de Fonde, 
as he gallantly kissed her hand. 

‘ ‘ Thanks ! What an amiable idea. ’ ’ 

“As I waspa ssing Jamain the other day, 
I saw a double pearl necklace, and could not 
help thinking how well it would become 
your pretty shoulders.” 

“Indeed! You are a grand seigneur ,” she 
exclaimed, throwing her arms around his 
neck. 

Clotilde was well versed in all the tricks of 
her trade. Who would not be generous to 
be called “ a grand seigneur?" 

A discreet knock at the door interrupted 
the young woman’s burst of affection. The 
maid, who was as shrewd and crafty as a 
Dorine, announced M. Doctor Brack. 

“Your fianc£, my dear,” laughed Maurice. 
“It would, perhaps, be more proper that I 
should not meet him.” 

But she did not see things in that light, and 
her pride rebelled. 

“You have still a right here,” she said. 





HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


25 


“He knows how he takes me, does he not? ” 
And turning to the maid, she said, haugh¬ 
tily : “ Tell him to come in.” 

Then, again turning to Maurice, she said, 
vivaciously: “ Kiss your pretty Clotilde for 

the last time, my little darling! ” 

This breaking-off scene completely cured 
Maurice of his love. He was, however, 
curious to see his “legitimate” successor, the 
courageous adventurer who did not fear to 
give his name to one of the highest priced 
women in Paris. Doctor Brack entered. He 
was one of those professional failures who 
spend their lives running after an unattain¬ 
able practice. About forty years of age, 
tall, thin and fair, with big blue eyes, the 
homeopathist resembled the conventional 
German of the popular five franc chromo. 
At a first glance, he might have been thought 
too simple; at the second, too shrewd. The 
receding forehead expressed craftiness; the 
embarrassed gestures, prudence. Every¬ 
thing about this man betrayed vulgarity 
and baseness. M. de Fonde read the charac¬ 
ter of this individual at a glance. A man of 
this description cares little for sentiment 
Marrying Clotilde was a matter of business 
with him, and nothing more. 



26 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


Clotilde introduced them ceremoniously, 
and Maurice withdrew. As the portieres 
closed behind him, he heard the young 
woman crying, affectionately: 

“Kiss your pretty Clotilde, my little darl¬ 
ing-” 

The very phrase she had uttered to him! 
He gave a sigh of relief. He had done then 
with all those deceits, with all those senti¬ 
mental fripperies! He had completed the 
liquidation! Neither mistress nor debts 
remained. Maurice merely gave a slight 
shrug of the shoulders at the thought that 
he had squandered the greater part of his 
wealth on such women as Clotilde Veronese. 
These girls are not half bad! But false, 
greedy and vulgar! Vulgar above all. For¬ 
tunately, he still retained enough energy to 
tear himself from this nauseating mire. 
He longed for a peaceful and laborious 
life, where he would regain his manly dignity, 
lessened by the complaisances of salons, 
little boudoirs and clubs. Maurice unwit¬ 
tingly recalled Traville’s mocking phrase: 
“You always took Clotilde au strieux” 
He had been very simple, no doubt! But, at 
thirty, one is still young. He could build up a 
future, and break off those bad habits. Once 



HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


27 


buried in his chateau, he would be sheltered 
from temptation. He would associate with 
his neighbors, and at the end of a few 
months, who could say ? he might, perhaps, 
meet the ideal young girl, destined to be 
his wife- 

Man is born to feed on illusions. The 
philosopher has said: “Beware! you have 
in your brain a hobby whose song will charm 
you forever! ’ ’ Maurice well knew his hobby. 
It was love. Woman dominated the life of 
this man, who was at once sentimental 
and*sensual, and who naivelev strove to in¬ 
carnate his dream. 

In the evening, he dined at the club with 
liis friend, Robert Traville. Then they went 
to the opera to hear the celebrated Madame 
Salbert in “-Aida.” But the young men did 
not exchange any more confidences. 

“Then, you are really going?” said Ro¬ 
bert, abruptly, as they were coming out. 

“Yes, I am going.” 

“ And Clotilde ? ” 

“ Clotilde is to be married.” 

Traville burst into a hearty laugh. Then 
he added, more seriously: 

“I hope you will allow me to accompany 
you to the station ? ” 



28 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


“No, I don’t want to disturb you.” 

“As you wish. But you are wrong. 
When a convict leaves the galleys, at Nou¬ 
mea, his comrades politely escort him to the 
gate.” 

“ Thanks, for the comparison ! ” 

“It is just, nevertheless. You are also 
leaving the galleys, my good fellow: the 
Parisian galleys, to which we are condemned 
by birth, habit and tradition! You may be 
perfectly happy as a gentleman farmer, and 
I beg of you to forget my railleries of this 
morning. On one condition, however: be¬ 
ware of yourself! And, above all—no more 
follies for women.” 



Ill 

The eleven o’clock express which leaves the 
Gare de Lyon is little patronized; it stops 
too frequently. Travelers prefer one of the 
fast night trains, which cross France so 
rapidly, and with such comfort. M. de 
Fonde was not long in finding an empty 
compartment. The same selfish thought 
that comes to all men crossed his mind: 
“ What luck; I shall be alone! ” 

But he was somewhat hasty in his con. 
elusion. Five or six minutes before the time 
of departure, a young woman opened the 
door of the compartment, and quietly took 
possession of the opposite seat. A tall and 
stout man, with a florid complexion, stood 
on the platform and handed her, one by one, 
the small objects necessary to the comforts 
of a journey—a silk cushion, a few news¬ 
papers and two or three books. 


30 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


Though annoyed at this intrusion, M. de 
Fonde soon consoled himself. \ This Paris- 
ienne was very pretty! Tall, elegant and 
graceful, she betrayed the woman of the 
world at the first glance. Under the half 
raised veil, one immediately distinguished 
the woman sure of herself, whose beauty did 
not fear the crude rays of the matutinal sun. 
She quietly disposed of her effects, like an 
experienced traveler. Her companion leaned 
into the compartment and arranged the 
woolen rug about her feet. 

“ Thanks, my friend,” she said with a 
smile. “ I am quite comfortable now.” 

“Don’t forget to send me a dispatch as 
soon as you reach Joigny?” said her com¬ 
panion. 

“No, I shall not forget it. 1 will only 
remain long enough to kiss my poor aunt 
and return.” 

“Then, good-bye till Saturday, my dear 
Catherine.” 

“Till Saturday.” 

“I will meet you at six o’clock with the 
coup£.” 

“ Take good care of Jacques.” 

“ Do not fear.” 

He carelessly pressed the hand she ex- 















HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


31 


tended, and the guard slammed the door. 
Then, with a sharp and prolonged whistle, 
the train moved out of the station. Maurice 
was making his adieu to Parisian life in the 
company" of a very pretty woman. 

When two persons of opposite sex, who 
are strangers to each other, are traveling 
companions, they each play quite an amus¬ 
ing comedy. They begin by observing each 
other with distrust, wondering if this chance 
companion will be agreeable or disagreeable. 
The woman carelessly passes her hand 
through her hair, while she apparently 
studies the scenery, or is absorbed in the 
pages of her book; but, in reality, she is ob¬ 
serving the “ enemy ” from the corner of her 
eye. If he remains indifferent or evinces no 
curiosity, the vexed woman thinks: “ What 
an imbecile! ” If, on the contrary, he inspects 
his neighbor with that sly glance which 
reveals an observer, she says to herself: “ I 
must look my best! ” From that moment, 
if not too stupid, he will take the first oppor¬ 
tunity to render her one of those small 
services which will authorize him to speak ; 
if not too prudish, she will show that she is 
flattered by his attentions. 

During the first half hour, Maurice con> 




32 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


tented himself with a few furtive glances at 
the unknown. “Decidedly, she is very 
pretty,” he thought. “ I like those imperious 
women, who have an altogether personal 
physiognomy. Her large black eyes are 
dazzling with their reflections of blue sap¬ 
phires. The pale, pearly skin is truly that 
of a brunette. But, she is removing her 

veil-” M. de Fonde could now admire the 

wonderful, fine black hair, which crowned 
the noble and haughty brow like a somber 
diadem. Notwithstanding this scrutiny, she 
seemed quite at her ease. Whether it was 
that she was of a frank nature, or that she 
had confidence in him, she moved about 
freely and without embarrassment. 

A short distance beyond Brunoy, the train 
came to an abrupt stop, caused no doubt by 
a danger signal. The shock displaced the 
young woman’s leather valise from the rack. 
Maurice adroitly caught it as it fell and re¬ 
placed it securely. He was thanked by a 
graceful inclination of the head, emphasized 
by a sweet smile. When they reached Melun, 
M. de Fonde arose, and bowing politely to 
his companion, descended to the platform. 
The stop was short; scarcely long enough 
to smoke a cigarette. Maurice had just 



HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


33 


returned to his seat, when he was agreeably 
surprised to see his companion turn toward 
him. 

“You are a smoker, Monsieur,” she said; 

“ my presence must disturb you-” 

“ Oh! Madame! ” he protested. 

“ Oh, do not deny it! I judge you by my 
husband. You have my permission to 

smoke; I do not fear a cigarette-’ ’ 

The ice was broken. As usual, the con¬ 
versation began with an exchange of deep ob¬ 
servations on the beauty of the weather. Then 
they spoke of theaters, of Zola’s latest novel, 
of the celebrated singer, Alice Salbert, who 
had just made her triumphant debut at the 
Opera. When Parisians meet by chance, 
they always recognize each ^ther at the first 
words. Do they not speak the same tongue? 
And how quickly they discover ideas in 
common! After the opera, Maurice men¬ 
tioned the scandal of the day—a sensational 
law-suit, then being heard in the divorce 
court. A young girl, only two years married, 
had suddenly been abandoned for a former 
mistress. Maurice’s companion listened 
attentively to his recital. The story of this 
poor betrayed woman seemed to possess a 
particular interest for her. 

2 Her Sister’s Rival 




34 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


“Do you not think that Mine, de Noisel 
has been making much ado about nothing? ” 
concluded Maurice. 

A frown passed over his companion’s brow. 

“I see that you do not share my opinion, 
Madame,” he rejoined, bowing. 

“The reason is very simple, Monsieur. I 
am the intimate friend of Jeanne de Noisel, 
who I hope will soon again become Jeanne 
de Fierchamps. We were brought up to¬ 
gether, although she is three years younger 
than I. You do not know this noble woman ' 
I am the confident other sorrows, and know 
her better than any one else.” 

“I believe you, Madame. But what an 
amusing situation ! You are the wife’s friend ; 
the husband is one of my club comrades.” 

“ Did you have a good opinion of him be¬ 
fore this scandal came to light?” 

“Mon Dieu, Madame-. We are so tol¬ 

erant in Paris! ” said Maurice with a smile. 

She raised her head haughtily. Her dark 
eyes lighted up with a warm light that re¬ 
flected the loyalty of her nature. 

“I am a Parisian also,” she retorted 
quickly. “But I do not think as you do, 
Monsieur. What you call tolerance, is to me 
only cowardice. I am indulgent for those 




HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


35 


whom a passion leads astray, but I am impla¬ 
cable to vice. M. de Noisel is a vicious man, 
and his libertinism inspires me with horror 
and disgust. For eight months I closely fol¬ 
lowed the drama which has developed into 
the lawsuit you speak of. The perpetual lies 
with which he enveloped his treachery, have 
roused my indignation against this wretch. 
For me, a man who lies is a man condemned. 
He must truly have as little courage as 
dignity.” 

The young woman spoke in a sweet, thril¬ 
ling voice, full of conviction and sincerity. 
In a few words she had revealed her charac¬ 
ter. When we have lived a great deal with 
women, we learn to judge the woman 
quickly. This stranger had first struck 
Maurice by the beauty of her face and the 
elegance of her form. She now inspired him 
with unrestrained sympathy, mingled with 
a little fear and a great deal of respect; and 
he almost immediately changed his tone and 
manner 

“You are right, Madame,” he said gravely. 
“Be kind enough to forgive my heedless 
words. I assure you I am better than I 
seem. If ever I return to Paris, your friend 
Mme. de Noisel will have no warmer de¬ 
fender than myself.” 



36 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


The most dignified woman is not insensible 
to the secret joy caused by a little triumph. 
And the traveler realized that she had won 
one. The somewhat disdainful haughtiness 
of her glance was tempered by a vague be¬ 
nevolence. From that moment she was 
more free in her conversation. Maurice, on 
his side, showed himself as he truly was 
when no constraint checked the frank spon¬ 
taneity of his nature. Unknown to himself, 
he was imbued with the desire to please. 
Psychologists of all times have maintained 
that the more beautiful half of the human 
species alone practices coquetry. That is 
putting a slight on men. They are as co- 
quetish, as much given to posing, and fully 
as pretentious as their perpetual enemy. M. 
de Fonde possessed the art of making him¬ 
self agreeable. One does not frequent the 
divers Parisian worlds without acquiring 
some experience. Maurice had no wish to be 
misunderstood by this unknown woman. 
Oh, human heart! He had never seen her 
before, and, no doubt, would never see her 
again. One hour more, and this casual 
intercourse would be abruptly terminated at 
Joigny. Nevertheless, he did not want this 
graceful woman to carry away a bad impres¬ 
sion of him. 




HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


37 


M. de Fonde was endowed with kind and 
delicate sentiments, a ready wit, and a tal¬ 
ent for repartee. This was more than enough 
to assure success, and he quickly won his 
cause. As the moment of separation drew 
nearer, the Parisian felt that he was gaining 
ground. The young woman now smiled at 
his discreet but amusing jests. At last the 
speed of the train slackened ; they were near¬ 
ing Joigny. Maurice felt his heart some¬ 
what oppressed, though much astonished and 
even a little displeased at the sensation. For 
the last time, he cast upon the beautiful wo¬ 
man an ardent gaze, as if to engrave forever 
in his memory that sweet and haughty face. 
For an instant he had the hope of touching 
the delicately gloved hand; but as he pre¬ 
pared to jump to the platform to assist 
her to alight, she said, politely but coldly: 

“Do not disturb yourself, Monsieur, I beg. 
I am expected.” 

She bowed slightly; a footman soon pre¬ 
sented himself at the door, and the young 
woman quickly disappeared without even 
turning her head. 

An unexpected meeting, a brutal separa¬ 
tion. Life contains such hazards. How 
could M. de Fonde suspect that the drama of 



38 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


his life had begun, and that he would suffer 
through this very incident, he who had never 
known real suffering ? 






IV. 

Alone, sunk in the corner of the compart¬ 
ment, he was thinking. To what world did 
she belong? To the best. Impossible to mis¬ 
take the woman of gentle birth, of standing 
and of education. What did he know of her? 
Nothing, except her first name. She was 
called Catherine. The only way to obtain 
information was to write. As Catherine 
was closely linked with Mme. de Noisel, he 
could have hopes in that direction. But 
how was he to go about it ? 

If railroads had existed in Lafontaine’s 
time, the fabulits would not have written: 

“ Que faire dans un gite, a moins que l’on ne songe.” 

He would assuredly have modified his 
poetic meter, and substituted railway car¬ 
riage for lodging, knowing well that the 
traveler, dashing along in an express, is a 
prey to the caprices of his wandering imag¬ 
ination. Little by little, by dint of thinking, 


40 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


Maurice constructed a very simple and logical 
plan. He remembered having frequently met 
Jeanne de Noisel in Mme. de Ganges’ drawing 
room. Once settled in his new home, he 
would write a carefully worded letter to the 
latter, questioning her without seeming to 
do so, without betraying his burning curios¬ 
ity. Simple enough. But was he sure of not 
betraying himself? Mme. de Ganges was not 
wanting in shrewdness. A woman of the 
world like her, rendered suspicious and wary 
through the adventures of a gay life, would 
not be so easily deceived. But what did it 
matter, after all? In his heart Maurice ad¬ 
mitted that he would be pleased if Catherine 
learned the truth. A woman, however re¬ 
served, and even prudish, is always flattered 
of having produced such a strong impress¬ 
ion upon a passing acquaintance. 

M. de Fonde now ceased to reason, and 
allowed memory to take supremacy. Clos¬ 
ing his eyes, he evoked the fine and delicate 
face, with its pure lines and dark eyes—those 
large eyes which reflected the noble soul. 
Not a defect in this unknown one: supple, ele¬ 
gant, well formed, an enchanting voice and a 
sovereignly distinguished mien. Did she love 
her husband, that big, vulgar man who ac- 



HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


41 


companied her to the station ? Impossible! 
She must have been married to a fortune, to 
a position, as is often the ease in France. At 
this point Maurice broke off with an angry 
gesture, exclaiming aloud: “How stupid I 
am!” Indeed, he was. Why dramatize an 
adventure which could have no sequel ? 
What! A Parisian like him, a man bronzed 
by the life of the Boulevard, to fall in love at 
first sight! And with whom ? A stranger 
he would never see again ! 

Many contrary ideas conflicted in the 
young man’s brain. Is one an idiot because 
he obeys his fancy ? Independence is a very 
rare happiness. No link restrains, no chain 
weighs. We do as we please, and we go 
where we please. Go whither we please ? 
Then why should not he, Maurice, once more 
become the docile slave of his fancy ? A few 
minutes more and the train would stop at 
Tonnerre. The young man could there alight, 
and after a few hours’ waiting retrace his 
steps to Joigny. 

M. de Fonde said all this to himself. 
However, in spite of the foolish desire that 
tormented him, he allowed the train to 
proceed without executing his project. A 
ray ofcommon sense still remained in him, and 



42 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


he saw the absurdity of the plan. How 
could "he find any traces of Catherine ? By 
what name should he designate her? And 
even if he were to brave the ridicule of an 
inquiry among the employes at the station, 
what practical result would follow? Even 
if after judiciously spending a couple of louis, 
Maurice gained his end, the young woman 
would still be out of his reach. He remem¬ 
bered the few words exchanged between her 
and her husband before the departure. She 
was going to visit her aunt. And what then? 
He laughed at the thought of her amaze¬ 
ment, if he were to penetrate unexpectedly 
into that provincial drawing-room! After 
weighing all the consequences, he resigned 
himself to the inevitable. Who knows, but 
fate is sometimes intelligent. After bring¬ 
ing about a first meeting, it would, perhaps, 
bring about a second. Then Maurice remem¬ 
bered Robert Traville’s last words ; and his 
friend’s advice helped him recover his reason. 
It was useless to leave Paris and bury himself 
in the province, if the exile did not put an 
end to his follies of other days. 

The traveler whose destination is Arnay- 
le-Comte, is only half way when he alights 
at the station of Blaizy-Bas. He must still 




HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


43 


traverse thirty kilometers of a rough moun¬ 
tainous country, abounding in admirable 
scenery. At this extremity of the Cote-d’Or, 
nature presents a rugged and picturesque 
aspect, which foretells the wild grandeur of 
the Morvan. Everywhere, steep cliffs, thick 
forests, whose blue depths dot the red earth 
with sombre tints. Numerous streams fall 
in cascades, hewing a tumultous path 
between the rocks. The road is never level, 
sometimes ascending the cliffs to descend 
again, almost perpendicularly, into the depth 
of the valleys. 

Two hours after its departure from 
Blaizy, the diligence stopped in the bourg 
d’Epagnet to permit Maurice—the only pas¬ 
senger—to dine. The night was delicious. 
A perfumed breeze glided among the trees, 
and the full moon threw its silvery rays 
over the sleeping plain. The herds were 
already under shelter for the night, and, 
now and then, the stillness was broken by 
the barking of a dog, or the regular strokes 
of a church bell. Maurice gazed around 
him, silent and charmed by the profound 
calmness of beings and things. What tran¬ 
quility after the noise of the boulevards! 
What freshness after the furnace heat of the 




44 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


city! Wearied by the fatigue and disillusions 
of his former life, he tasted the delights of 
this unbroken repose. He did not even ask 
himself if he commenced existence in this 
retreat with a peaceful heart and brain. He 
had no suspicion that ennui might soon come. 
Or if for a moment this idea crossed his 
mind, he drove it away like one of those im¬ 
portunate thoughts that haunt us, and that 
should be quickly thrust away. 






V 

“Yes, my dear Madame Pernette,” said 
Mme. Poppleton, “he arrived last night. 
Six trunks ! And that is only the beginning. 
My maid was told yesterday at the Hotel 
de l’Ecu, that M. de Fonde would live at 
Charmoises.” 

“Are you sure? ” 

“He brings his establishment from Paris.” 

Mme. Rosalie Poppleton was always well 
informed. She was short, stout, lively as a 
ball, knew every thing and neglected nothing. 
She was the great gossip of Arnay-le-Comte, 
and was much respected on account of the 
snug little fortune she possessed. The happy 
M. Poppleton, son of a rich vine grower, 
had nothing to do. His wife governed the 
house and reigned in the drawing-room. 
Quite amiable, without malice, like most fat 


4fi 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


persons, she still excited platonic passions in 
spite of her forty years. All “ well thinking 
persons” visited her. For the little provin¬ 
cial towns of to-day no longer know the sub¬ 
divisions of other times. Fifteen years ago 
the nobles and bourgeois [never went out of 
their respective world. Never would Madame 
de Mathivon, n6e Cocusse, and Countess 
through the Pope’s kindness, but proud as 
a Montmorency, have permitted Mme. 
Poppleton to enter her door. However, the 
definitive victory oftheRepublic has changed 
all this by opposing local ambitions. Two 
groups shared the supremacy in Amay-le- 
Comte; the friends of the government headed, 
by Mme. Balivet-Lamothe, and the up¬ 
holders of the opposition, ruled by Mme. 
Rosalie Poppleton. 

Mme. Balivet-Lamothe was the living con¬ 
trast of her rival. Tall, thin, the skin glued 
to her bones, she betraj^ed at the first glance 
the provincial “ politiquette .” Her husband, 
who was local receiver of taxes, dreamed the 
splendors of a general treasurership. Being 
the grandson of the famous Lamothe, the Con¬ 
ventional regicide, he very skilfully took ad¬ 
vantage of his origin; never recalling it 
when the future seemed doubtful, and citing 



HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


47 


it ostentatiously when Republican ideas 
prevailed. Thus, until the third president of 
the Republic, he simply called himself M. 
Balivet. But as soon as it became useful to 
link himself to revolutionary souvenirs, he 
assumed the name of M. Lamothe. By dint 
of hiding or dragging forth his grandfather as 
the occasion required, according to the 
caprices of the ministerial barometer, the 
worthy functionary had succeeded in obtain¬ 
ing the favor of his successive chiefs. This 
proved the equilibrium of his mind ! Before 
every general election, the receiver of Amay- 
le-Comte united Lamothe to Balivet. An 
adroit way of conciliating everybody! 

When “society” learned through the 
notary that M. de Fonde was repairing 
Charmoises, there was a general cry of as¬ 
tonishment. Astonishment was soon suc¬ 
ceeded by sympathy. Everybody praised 
the young man for renouncing Paris for the 
province. However, the same question agi¬ 
tated them all. Whom would he visit? 
Where would he be received ? But Madame 
Poppleton was on this very day discussing 
this grave question. 

“M. de Fonde will be one of us,” she de¬ 
clared. ‘ ‘ It cannot be otherwise. You must 



48 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


remember that he belongs to the haute 
noblesse. Madame de Mathivon assures me 
that a de Fonde and a Mathivon were cru¬ 
saders together under Louis VII.” 

Those ancestors may have been at the 
crusades, but as scullions, nothing better! 

Rosalie’s friend, Mme. Pernette, prudently 
abstained from disapproving. Besides, with 
Mme. Poppleton, one only found time to 
interpose exclamations. The good woman 
chattered as a faucet flows. During the 
afternoon, she visited all her acquaintances, 
that she might have the pleasure of announc¬ 
ing the great news. If she had only sus¬ 
pected the joyful surprise that awaited her! 

Maurice was not aware that his arrival 
would set the provincial tongues wagging. 
As he troubled himself little about others, he 
thought it absurd that others should trouble 
themselves about him. After a copious 
breakfast at the Hotel de l’Ecu, he started 
out for a stroll. Naturally he turned his 
steps in the direction of Chateau-Charmoises, 
where he expected to lead such a wise exist¬ 
ence, intending afterwards to visit the 
Abb6 Mingral, cure of Arnay-le-Comte, who 
had prepared him for his first communion as 
a twelve-year old boy. 



HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


49 


What a strange aspect this feudal castle 
presented! A large, heavy and massive 
dwelling, built of cheerless gray stone. At 
the four angles, flanked by towers, extended 
four iron arms, rusted by age, from which 
Gaspard de Coligny’s companions hanged 
many Catholics during the religious wars. 
On a level with the ground floor, was a 
broad flagged terrace, which led to the 
flower garden by a flight of a dozen steps. 
At the extremity of this garden was a 
second stairway—an enormous stairway of 
forty steps — descending into the kitchen- 
garden. In the distance, as far as the eye 
could reach, the Argente flowed, joyous and 
clear, over its pebbled bed. 

The chateau had been uninhabited for 
many years. The young man soon con¬ 
vinced himself that the architect from Dijon 
had understood and carefully executed his 
orders. The ground floor and the first story 
had been renewed and completely restored. 
As soon as his Parisian furniture arrived, 
M. de Fonde could take possession. His 
valet would arrive this evening, and he had 
orders to engage a staff of servants, especi¬ 
ally a good cook; when a Parisian becomes a 
provincial, it behooves him to turn a regular 

3 Her Sister’s Rival 




HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


50 


gourmand. His inspection over, Maurice 
could not resist the desire to continue his 
ramble. What a delicious spring day! The 
blue sky, the soft air, the green paths, always 
tempt, at first, the exile from the Parisian 
Boulevard. 

An immense park formerly surrounded the 
Chateau' des Charmoises with its living 
growth. Maurice’s father had commenced 
the cultivation of this unprofitable land. At 
that epoch, forests were left intact, and only 
served for the pleasures of life. Fortunately, 
the forest recommenced two kilometers 
further on. Maurice felt a strong impulse to 
penetrate into it, and dream under the shel¬ 
ter of its trees. He remembered the large 
glades, the carpets of verdure and the enorm¬ 
ous oaks filled with birds. 

He was just entering a path shaded by 
beech-trees, when he saw a young woman 
coming toward him. A large gainsborough 
hat concealed her features, but he was too 
good a judge of toilets not to recognize a 
stylish woman by her mien and costume. She 
wore a cream-colored silk dress with small 
embroidered flowers. A very simple costume, 
but of exquisite taste, which revealed the 
fashionable woman at the first glance. 




























































HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


51 


She did not see him at first, seeming solely 
preoccupied by the search for her poodle, 
calling incessantly, and looking eagerly to 
the right and left. Maurice was advanc¬ 
ing slowly toward her; suddenly he stopped 
and gave a cry of stupefication, almost of 
alarm. Catherine stood before him ! Cath¬ 
erine, the unknown, the traveling acquaint¬ 
ance whom he believed so far away and for¬ 
ever lost to him! The young woman looked 
at him with mischievous curiosity. She saw 
the effect she had produced, and her vanity 
was agreeably flattered. As Maurice bowed 
to her she said in a sweet voice: 

“ Pardon me, Monsieur. I will be very 
thankful if you will render me a service. You 
have just crossed the plain; did you meet my 
dog?” 

M. deFonde stammered a few unintelligible 
words. He stood bewildered, understanding 
nothing, wondering if he were in a dream. 
The young woman walked like the other, she 
looked like the other, she spoke like the other, 
with the same musical intonation, with the 
same bewitching smile! Impossible,however, 
that it should be the same woman. Cathe¬ 
rine had left the train at Joigny. She was met 
at the station. Impossible also that such a re- 
4 



52 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


semblance could exist. Then, what did it 
mean? 

“I beg your pardon, Madame,” he finally 
said, “ if I hesitated to answer. I was inter¬ 
rogating my memory, but I can give you no 
information. Permit me, however, to aid 
you in your search.” 

She thanked him with a graceful inclina¬ 
tion of her head, and Maurice bowed po¬ 
litely. For a quarter of an hour they both 
affected the deepest solicitude for the lost 
poodle. At last, by dint of ferreting through 
the thick shrubbery, they discovered the fugi¬ 
tive dog in a glade, stretched out his full 
length, warming himself in the sun. A sin¬ 
gular curiosity tormented M. de Fonde. Evi¬ 
dently these two women were united by a 
close link. The unknown of the railway 
carriage must surely be a blood relation of 
the unknown of the forest. Twin sisters, no 
doubt. Was not this the only way to explain 
this astounding resemblance? When they 
reached the edge of the forest his new aquaint- 
ance again thanked him warmly. 

‘‘I congratulate myself on my good fortune 
in meeting you, Monsieur,” she said. “ You 
must be a stranger in this country ? ” 

“I arrived only yesterday, Madame. I 




HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


53 


have come to make my home at Charmoises, 
which I have not seen since my childhood.” 

Maurice intentionally gave the name of his 
residence, thus indirectly introducing himself. 

“ Ah! you are M. deFonde,”she exclaimed, 
raising her dazzling eyes to his. 

He bowed an assent. 

“Then we are neighbors, Monsieur. The 
river which flows through your park crosses 
my'garden five or six hundred meters further 
on. But we separate here. You are going 
back, I presume; I continue my walk.” 

After a slight inclination of the head, she 
took a path that wound round the hillock. 
Maurice stood motionless, watching her dis¬ 
appear, already bewitched by the supreme 
charm that disengaged itself from her every 
motion. The adventure enchanted him, espe¬ 
cially the mysterious side of it, which ren¬ 
dered it still more delightful. Thus, within 
thirty hours, he had met the same woman in 
two different women! His memory evoked 
recollections of Catherine, and the extraor¬ 
dinary resemblance amazed him more and 
more. Both tall, supple and graceful, both 
brunettes, with the same pearly skin, with 
the same dark eyes of a deep blue tint. 

As he walked on toward Arnay-le-Comte, 




54 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


Maurice felt himself slowly invaded by a 
sweet emotion. Unconsciously, he was weav¬ 
ing an odd romance. Firsc of all, lie must 
know who this neighbor was. This curios¬ 
ity could be easily satisfied. Was he not 
going to visit the abbe ? Nothing more sim¬ 
ple than to adroitly question him. 

Maurice remembered Abb6 Mingral very 
well, as he had been one of his father’s great¬ 
est friends. Since thirty years, this worthy 
man occupied the position of cur£ in Araav- 
le-Comte. Many successive generations had 
been blessed by this beloved priest, who was 
respected by even the unbelievers. Although 
past sixty, he still retained that warm faith 
of enthusiastic hearts which cannot be damp¬ 
ened by the deceptions of life. He received 
his parishioner with open arms. 

“I already knew of your return, my dear 
child,” he said kindly. “And I am pleased to 
see that you have not forgotten me.” 

“ I wanted my first visit to be to you, Mon¬ 
sieur le cur£,” replied Maurice. “Although 
the man I am at present has not, alas! re¬ 
tained the nnnocent faith of the child you 
have hitherto known, there still remains the 
remembrance of your kindness in my heart. 
That is enough to make me happy in thus 
expressing all my gratitude.” 





HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


55 


The abb£ pressed the young man’s hand 
warmly, and led him into the garden. A ver¬ 
itable curb’s garden, as carefully tended and 
trimmed as an old maid’s parrot. The wor¬ 
thy priest was not in the least inquisitive; 
but Maurice was anxious to inform his old 
friend of the cause of his exile in the province. 
He related in a discreet manner the follies of 
his past life, making himself neither better 
nor worse than he really was, and good 
humoredly admitting his faults. The abb£ 
listened, vaguely interested. 

“Then you are condemning yourself to 
what might be called a retreat? ’’ he asked. 

“ Yes, I suppose so,” replied Maurice. 

“ You will have but few distractions here.” 

“But, I assure you, I don’t want any.” 

“Oh! you may think so now,” said the 
abbe, smiling. “You are not the only one 
who, weary of Parisian agitations has be¬ 
lieved himself charmed by the tranquility of 
a provincial life. Ennui comes so soon ! ” 

Then, in reply to the young man’s protes¬ 
tations, he jesting^ added: 

“ First, have you a political opinion ? ” 

The conversation was here interrupted by 
the servant. 

“Madame Poppleton wishes to know if 
Monsieur le cur6 will receive her,” she said, 



56 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


“ At this announcement the abb6 burst into 
a merry laugh. 

“ Madame Poppleton comes apropos!” he 
said. “ I should have been less explicit than 
she. I know she will enlighten you on every¬ 
thing. Let us join her in the parlor.” 

When the excellent woman realized that 
she was being presented to M. de Fonde, the 
famous new comer, who had been the sole 
subject of conversation in Arnay-le-Comte 
since morning, she blushed with happiness. 
And with what a glance she scrutinized him ! 
This young man was indeed quite charming. 
She was no longer astonished at his good 
taste in preferring the province to Paris. Af¬ 
ter a few moments of conversation on general 
subjects, the bourgeoise astounded Maurice 
by asking him the same question as the 
cure. 

“And what are your political opinions, 
my dear monsieur?” she inquired eagerly. 
“ I am sure you must be one of us.” 

Maurice was forced to confess that he took 
little interest in politics. It is a subject not 
much in vogue on the Boulevard. 

“ What! you have no opinions ? ’ ’ cried the 
good woman, in amazement. 

“ I have not even a,ny preference! ” 



HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


57 


“Then, how do yon pass the time in 
Paris ? ” was the naive cry of her heart. 

Once launched, Mme. Poppleton never 
stopped. In one breath the chattering 
Rosalie described the habits and customs of 
Arnay-le-Comte, told M. de Fonde he might 
visit this house and not that other one, 
because not approved by “society.” And 
what discretion he must use in the choice of 
his trades-people! 

In fact, the same state of things existed in 
this little country-town as exists almost 
everywhere else in provincial France. Poli¬ 
tics have even invaded the private life of its 
inhabitants. The good people of Brussels 
have made this ridiculous hobby the fashion 
for fifty years. The baker that supplies the 
Liberals is not the baker that supplies the 
Catholics. And it is so in all the French 
departments. No one escapes the party 
spirit. Through ambition, as much as 
through fear, the provincials allow them¬ 
selves to be blindly enlisted; and this arouses 
secret and inevitable hatreds and feuds. 

Mme. Poppleton’s babbling was boring 
Maurice, but he heroically endured his mar¬ 
tyrdom. Being a stranger in the country, 
he knew that he must inure himself to the 



68 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


habits of the people among whom he was 
condemned to live. In reality he was pene¬ 
trating an almost mysterious world, the 
existence of which he did not even suspect. 
Tolerance is so great in Paris that we cannot 
conjecture the frightful struggles excited by 
Bordeaux politics in Marseilles, and by Mar¬ 
seilles politics in Dunkerque! We must not 
accuse the boulevard of skepticism: this 
stereotyped phrase has served too much and 
too long. The truth is more simple and less 
complicated. Parisians are not massed to¬ 
gether, and besides they have a thousand 
subjects of conversation which help them 
avoiding irritating questions. Moreover, 
they are not always lying in wait for official 
positions and fat sinecures. The ambitions, 
which exist there as everywhere else, are lost 
in the midst of an enormous city. And then, 
as La Bruy^re has said, there are “idle, un¬ 
occupied and dull people” everywhere. The 
best means to remain unoccupied is to busy 
yourself about others! 



VI. 


The abb£ was too shrewd not to see his 
young friend’s annoyance. He tried to stop 
Mme. Poppleton’s flow of words. 

“Madame is right,” Maurice hastened to 
say. “I am sure the country will please me 
very much. Ah! I had such a delightful 
ramble this morning! ” 

And he related his morning’s adventure; 
his walk in the forest and the unexpected 
meeting, the remembrance of which still 
charmed him. At the very first words Mme. 
Poppleton pricked up her ears. Such a gos¬ 
sip as she was must know the “unknown”— 
that unknown who so strangely resembled 
the other. Maurice was not mistaken. 

“Why, that is Soif d’Egardsl" * cried 
Rosalie, triumphantly. 


* Eager for attentions. 



60 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


“ There, there, Madame; you promised me 
to be indulgent,” said the priest, severely. 

“You know very well, Monsieur le cur6, 
that I did not give this nickname to Madame 
Huberte Andr^zv.” 

“That may be,” he replied. “But you 
make use of it. That is already too much.” 
Then turning to Maurice, he added: “ She is 
one of my best parishioners, I assure you. 
You must not believe what you hear of her. 
You have seen the woman and you appre¬ 
ciate her. But I know the Christian.” 

“ Christian ! Christian! ” echoed Mme. Pop- 
pleton, with a disdainful toss of the head. 
“What about the story of the confession? ” 

“I believe I am the best judge in such mat¬ 
ters,” continued the priest, authoritatively. 
“Madame Andr^zy possesses high qualities, 
rare qualities—especially in this country. 
She always spares her neighbor. She has, 
for me, that very great merit of never med¬ 
dling in the affairs of others. That is a 
compliment I could not address to every¬ 
body.” 

What was this story of the confession? 
and why that nickname of “So// d'Egards?” 
It was more than enough to excite the young 
man’s curiosity. This pretty Huberte in- 



HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


61 


terested him doubly. She appeared like a 
living enigma to him. The Parisian, how¬ 
ever, was clever enough not to solicit any 
confidence in the presence of the abb A He 
knew that Mme. Poppleton would not dare 
brave the anger of her spiritual director. 
He, therefore, made himself as agreeable and 
pleasant as possible to the meddlesome 
gossip. 

“ I am very fortunate in meeting you here, 
Madame,” he said, politely. “However, as 
I intended to make my first visit to you, I 
would have had that honor to-day or to¬ 
morrow.” 

The good woman could scarcely conceal 
her delight. What success! And what a 
charming young man ! Ah! we recognize at 
the first glance those young people who are 
not brought up according to the deplorable 
principles of the new school! 

The abb£ suspected Maurice’s little ruse, 
but his smiling good-nature was amused by 
the tact displayed by his young friend. Be¬ 
sides, priests have always loved diplomacy. 
He was not, therefore, much astonished to 
see Maurice arise to take his leave at the 
same time as Mme. Poppleton. 

“Will you permit me to accompany you, 
Madame?” said Maurice, bowing. 



62 


IIER SISTER'S RIVAL 


“ I shall be only too happy, Monsieur.” 

The worthy ecclesiastic could scarcely 
repress a smile at this exchange of conven¬ 
tional phrases. As they both disappeared, 
however, he must have thought with a sigh 
that poor Madame Andr^zy would not be 
spared. He knew that Maurice would give 
the reins to his curiosity. 

In fact, they had scarcely reached the road 
when Madame Poppleton commenced the 
little story with her usual entrain. 

“Our dear abbe is very severe with me, 
Monsieur,” she said, plaintively. “I do not 
like—no, not at all—to hear my neighbor ill- 
spoken of. Madame Huberte Andr^zy is 
indeed a charming woman. No one in all 
Arnay-le-Comte esteems her more highly than 
myself.” 

She paused for a moment, and then resumed 
in a livelier tone: 

“But what difference does it make? We 
are all very indulgent in the province; and 
also very simple. And we never like to see 
anybody display useless pride.” 

And for a good half hour, she went on with¬ 
out stopping, relating the whole history of 
Mme. Andr£zy since her arrival in Arnay-le- 
Comte. It was, after all, but a very com- 



HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


63 


monplace story. One day a very pretty and 
stylish young woman, recommended by the 
Bishop of Evreux to his friend Monsieur 
l’Abb6 Mingral,had arrived in the provincial 
town. As she was well received by the cur£, 
the young woman was invited everywhere. 
Unfortunately, she was merry and laughed a 
great deal; she was therefore considered im¬ 
pertinent. She was, however, very polite to 
others, and exacted a similar politeness 
toward herself in return. A wit of the town, 
on this account, surnamed her “ Soif d' 
Egartfs /” The nickname was a success. It 
concealed all the spite of the plain, vulgar, 
stupid and dowdy provincials against this 
pretty, accomplished, stylish and intelligent 
stranger. Madame Andr&z}^ was too shrewd 
to enlist in one party, or join either of the 
political camps. She visited the people who 
pleased her, and received them in an affable 
manner. The evil tongues immediately cried: 
“Soif cEEgards is a skeptic!” The young 
Moman retorted by a few malicious witti¬ 
cisms. Disgusted by the pretensions to no¬ 
bility of three or four country dolts, she 
humbled their pride in a very clever manner. 
And as a climax, she had written to Madame 
de Mathivon, who was so proud of the quar- 




64 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


terings she was not entitled to, and had ad¬ 
dressed the envelope: “ Comtesse de Mathi- 
von, nee Cocusse.” 

In provincial society a witty woman is 
powerful because she is dreaded. Madame 
Huberte Andr6zy having made herself feared, 
her enemies thought it more prudent to lay 
down their arms. They still called her “ Soif 
d'Egards ,” but only in private. And, be¬ 
sides, she led the life of a wealtlry person. Her 
house, “Les Audliettes,” was kept up 
in a style that astounded the good bour¬ 
geoises. Madame de Mathivon was furious 
when she heard the president of the tribunal 
declare “that Madame Andr£zy possessed 
some ancient and very valuable furniture. , ’ 
Moreover, Huberte kept four horses, a coup£ 
and a victoria that dazzled every one. 
Whence came this wealth? They did not 
dare slander her; the Bishop of Evreux and 
the cur<§ protected this stranger from mali¬ 
cious suppositions. It was then that the 
great scandal suddenly burst; the affair of 
the confession! 

To this day public opinion is divided con¬ 
cerning this burning topic. Like most me¬ 
morable events, it is obscured by the sha¬ 
dows of history! But the following is the 
version that triumphed: 





HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


65 


Madame Andr^zy, though not a pagan, 
displaj^ed very lukewarm religious senti¬ 
ments. She was never seen at church except 
on Sunday, and never fulfilled her Easter du¬ 
ties ! One day the abb6 invited her to come 
to the confessional, and to take him for her 
spiritual adviser. Huberte did not dare re¬ 
fuse. But she went straight from the church 
to Mme. Balivet-Lamothe, the leader of the 
republican party. And this is what she re¬ 
lated : 

“ Yes, my dear Madame, I have just been to 
confession. You are astonished. Well, so 
am I. ‘My dear child, are you a widow?’ 
asked the abb A ‘ Yes, Monsieur le curA’ 
‘When your husband was living, did you 
ever deceive him ? ’ ‘ Never! ’ ‘ Now that 

you are free, have you ever any bad thoughts? ’ 
‘Always! ’ And he went on asking a lot of 
questions : if I fasted on Friday; if I observed 
Ember days; if I fulfilled my Easter duties, not 
being domiciled in Arnay-le-Comte. All this 
wearied me. Only think of a man of sense 
entering into those little details! I had 
expected that he would keep within—within 
the main lines! So I ran away, leaving the 
benediction floating in the sacristy! ” 



66 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


This amusing anecdote had an enormous 
success in Mme. Balivet-Lamothe’s drawing¬ 
room. A success that soon became a scan¬ 
dal. Whether the story had been exagger¬ 
ated, or whether the abb6 had the pious 
desire of converting his parishioner, he con¬ 
tinued to protect the pretty Huberte. So 
well did he do this, that although disliked 
by some, and calumniated by others, she 
continued to be received in all the drawing¬ 
rooms she visited. For, after all, no one 
attacked her private conduct, which was 
believed to be irreproachable. No one, there¬ 
fore, attached much importance to the whims 
that suddenly came into her foolish head. 
One day she announced that in the future, 
she would spend forty-eight hours of every 
week with one of her friends, newly arrived 
in Dijon. Thirty-five kilometers only sepa¬ 
rated the two towns. The young woman 
left every Saturday afternoon, comfortably 
installed in her landau, and returned two 
days later. 

Naturally, Madame Poppleton had an 
opinion of her own about the matter; in¬ 
deed, she always had an explanation for 
every incident. 

When Maurice had politely escorted her to 




HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


67 


her own door, he walked on, in a very 
thoughtful mood. Huberte pre-occupied him 
more than ever since he was initiated into 
the gossips and tittle-tattles, or as Mme. de 
Remusat called it “the petoffes ” provoked 
by the young woman. There was evidently 
some mystery about this unknown beauty. 
How much could he believe of these stories 
gathered right and left ? 

The clever and witty Parisian tried to re¬ 
construct the psychology of this feminine 
character. First, it was evident that no 
one in Arnay-le-Comte had seen what ap¬ 
peared singular, obscure and unexplained 
in this seemingly very limpid life. That 
Madame Andr^zy led an irreproachable ex¬ 
istence since her arrival in this little town, 
he did not doubt. But before that ? A sus¬ 
picion entered the brain of this man of the 
world, who placed little faith in what -M. 
Prud’homme called “feminine virtue.” She 
was a Parisian. He was sure of that. He 
recognized her by her wit, her elegance, even 
her way of talking. Huberte did not at all 
resemble the provincials. And then Maurice 
remembered the other! Catherine and Hu¬ 
berte must be twin sisters. The fable of the 
Menechmes is not repeated in real life. Ro- 
5 



68 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


mance alone can create two strangers ex¬ 
actly similar to each other. 

Maurice was either mistaken in his conjec¬ 
tures, or he was right. If he were right— 
ah! then everything became clear. One of 
the sisters lived in Paris with her husband 
and family; the other was compelled to bury 
herself in the country in consequence of some 
scandalous adventure. It was natural that 
Arnay-le-Comte “ society ” should not guess 
this. To begin with, they were ignorant of 
Catherine’s existence; then, the episcopal 
recommendation protected the young wom¬ 
an’s past from suspicion. In a word, Mau¬ 
rice was undoubtedly interested, and his 
curiosity excited to the quick. He must 
again see Huberte, at any cost. Of course, 
as a new-comer, he owed her a visit; but he 
must wait a few days. And these few days 
would seem very long! 




VII. 

Next morning Maurice was lounging 
along the paths of his grounds, when his 
valet announced that two persons wished to 
see him. 

“ Two persons, Constant? Can I not he 
left in peace! What do they want ? ” 

The valet assumed an amused air. 

“ Explain yourself! Who is it ? ” 

“ Monsieur will excuse me,” replied the 
servant with comic gravity. “It’s the cor¬ 
poral of gendarmerie, accompanied by a 
workman. They say it’s about the posts.” 

M. de Fonde was puzzled for a moment. 
What could they want about the posts ? 

“ Very well; I shall go,” he said resignedly. 

The corporal,a middle-aged man, awaited, 
standing with his arms crossed; while the 
workman, a young fellow of twenty, was 


70 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 

scrutinizing right and left, looking curiously 
at his surroundings. 

“ Well, corporal, it seems that you wish to 
see me,” said Maurice, as he walked up to 

them. ‘ ‘ What is your business ? ’ ’ 

“It’s about the posts, Monsieur,” replied 
the corporal, as he pointed to the row of 
white posts planted along the Argente at 
equal intervals. 

Maurice’s face expressed so much bewilder¬ 
ment that the workman laughed outright. 

“ Isee that you are a Parisian, like myself.” 
he said. 

“Ah! you are a Parisian, my good fellow,” 
said Maurice, laughing in his turn. “Well, 

then, I beg of 3^011 to explain this post busi¬ 
ness.” 

“ To begin with, Monsieur, there will be an 
election in this department within two 
months. Are you registered among the voters 
of Arnay-le-Comte ? ” 

“ Why, I never voted in my life! ” 

“ Then you can’t understand; it is beyond 
you. Eight years ago the government wished 
to conciliate the voters of Arnay-le-Comte. 
So they promised to construct a railway con¬ 
necting with the Lyons line at Beaume. But 
the provincials were distrustful; so many 




HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


71 


promises are made on the eve of an election 
that are never kept. The prefect, however, 
sent for a few surveyors a couple of weeks be¬ 
fore the election, and they took measure¬ 
ments, studied the ground. It was a one day 
marvel! Everybody said : ‘ At last we shall 
have a railway.’ But after the election the 
surveyors vanished, and were not again 
seen until four years later; that is, at the 
next election. This time those crafty men 
did better; they planted posts along the pro¬ 
posed line. Confidence returned. The whole 
department regained courage, and the most 
incredulous repeated : 'At last we shall have 
a railway! ’ The same story ! The posts 
remained where they were placed, but that 
was all. Something, however, must be done 
before the next election. But how were they 
to fool the good citizens a third time? 
Then the prefect, who has no money to begin 
the work, conceived a superb idea. He sent 
for me, and said: ‘You will paint those 
posts green! ’” 

They all laughed at this ingenious idea; 
that is, the painter, Maurice and the valet, 
who was standing at a respectful distance. 
The corporal alone remained serious, won¬ 
dering uneasity if this general hilarity were 
not an insult to the superior authorities. 



72 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


“ Consequently we are here to beg your 
permission to paint your posts green. Green 
is a very pretty color, and will suit the 
scenery,” concluded the painter. 

“And if I refuse? ” said Maurice. 

“ Well, then, I shall be obliged to leave them 
as they are. Your neighbor, Madame An- 
dr£zy, paid me my day’s wages and showed 
me the door.” 

“I will do the same,” said Maurice. “Take 
this twenty-franc piece and show me your 
heels. My garden is surrounded by walls, 
and I am master here.” 

While the jolly painter walked slowly 
away, accompanied by the disconcerted 
corporal, Maurice wondered how he could 
take advantage of this incident. Did he not 
now have a pretext to call on his neighbor ? 
Should they not have an understanding be¬ 
tween them, that they might protect their 
rights as proprietors? Half an hour later, 
the well-trained Constant started for Les 
Audliettes, carrying a letter, in which M. de 
Fonde begged Madame Andr^zy to grant him 
an interview. Huberte hastened to reply, by 
a very amiable, but slightly sarcastic note, 
saying that she would be at home until the 
middle of the afternoon. 



HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


73 


“ She is decidedly clever,” thought Maurice, 
as he studied the note. These few lines indi¬ 
cate very clearly that she is not deceived by 
to my stratagem. However, she consents to 
receive me. If her handwriting does not belie 
her, she must be of a determined character. 
Not at all timid, I should say ! ” 

After breakfast, Maurice took a stroll, 
which ended atLes Audliettes. As he neared 
the villa, his heartbeat somewhat faster, and, 
by a strange oddity, he was thinking less of 
Huberte than of Catherine. He admitted 
that his neighbor interested him less through 
herself than through her resemblance to the 
other. 

A discreet-looking maid ushered Maurice in¬ 
to a spacious boudoir, with windows in full 
view of the Argente, and bathed in sunlight. 

“ Madame will be down in a few moments, 
and begs Monsieur to await her,’’ she said 
as she withdrew. 

The inhabitants of Arnay-le-Comte had 
reason enough to envy Mme. Andr£zy’s 
pretty villa. Maurice found himself trans¬ 
ported into the coquettish apartment of a 
refined Parisian. He was admiring an ex¬ 
quisite picture by Henner, when Huberte 
entered. 



74 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


“You are very kind to receive me, Madame, ’ ’ 
he said, bowing. “I intended to do myself 
the honor of calling on you in the course of 
the week; but a circumstance ”— 

The young woman interrupted him with a 
frank laugh. 

“An urgent circumstance, is it not, Mon¬ 
sieur?” she said gaily. 

Maurice was too much of a man of the 
world to feign any longer. 

“ I see that you have found me out,’ ’ he re¬ 
plied, laughing. “ You are not mistaken, 
Madame. When I met you yesterday, I ad¬ 
mired you, as one always admires a lovely 
and intelligent woman.” 

Huberte did not even wince at this blunt 
compliment; but a warm light, scarcely per¬ 
ceptible, came into her dark eyes. 

“You are too indulgent, Monsieur,” she 
said, in that musical voice that so charmed 
Maurice. “ Perhaps you would be less so, if 
you had heard people speak of me.” 

“I have already heard !” 

“ They lost no time!” 

“Would you be astonished if I excused 
them? Since your arrival here, all the wo¬ 
men must be dying of jealousy ! You cannot 
be beautiful and graceful with impunity. 



HER SISTERS RIVAL 


75 


And, besides, you are a Parisian. A Paris¬ 
ian ! Just think of it! How can provincial 
women forgive you such a dire crime ?” 

Huberte smiled, delighted at the young 
man’s compliments. 

“I will wager that you desired to know 
this ‘ Soif d’Egards ,’ precisely because she 
was abused,’’she said archly. 

“I admit it.” 

“Ah, well, Monsieur mon voisin, I shall be 
as frank as you. If I am delighted to please 
you, it is because you please me also.” 

“How lonesome you must be in this little 
own!” 

“ If I am lonesome!” 

She pronounced these four words with so 
much conviction that Maurice laughed. 

“You guessed at once that I was a Paris¬ 
ian,” she continued. “Now explain what 
appears incomprehensible to me: How is it 
that a man like you exiles himself volun¬ 
tarily in this forsaken country ?” 

“Oh! it is not voluntarily!” 

“Love troubles?” 

“ Not that, either. My conduct is dictated 
by more prosaic motives. I have squandered 
three-fourths of my fortune.” 

“ 0! you poor man!” she murmured. 




76 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


All this was said gaily, unceremoniously, 
like two comrades chatting at their ease. 

And yet there was a shade of coquetry in 
this lively dialogue. They were trying to 
understand each other. Maurice, without 
naming anybody, cleverly sketched a few 
of the local physiognomies, and Huberte' 
laughed heartily at his witt\ r delineations. 

“Now, I am going to make a flattering 
avowal,” she said. “ This is the first time I 
have the pleasure of conversing with a 
bright man since my arrival in Arnay-le- 
Comte, four years ago.” 

“ Really, I do not weary you ?” 

“ What conceit!” 

“ Then I shall venture to solicit a favor. ” 

“ Already?” she said archly. 

“You are going out ?” 

“ Yes. I take a ramble in the forest every 
day.” 

“ Will you allow me to accompany you ’ ’ 

For the second time a warm light came in¬ 
to Huberte’s eyes. 

“I consent cheerfully,” she replied. “Only 
you will do me the pleasure of leaving me at 
once.” 

“Why?” 

“You do not know the people! Should 




HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


77 


anybody see us going out together, not only 
would I be lost, but, heavens ! what a scan¬ 
dal it would create! It would be immedi¬ 
ately proclaimed that you are here only for 

me.” 

“ Where shall I find you, then ?” 

“ Oh! that is very simple. Enter the forest 
by the same path you did yesterday. Ten 
minutes’ walk will bring you to the middle 
of a glade. Sit down at the foot of a tree 
and wait for me.” 

They were standing near the window, 
under the brilliant rays of the sun. Maurice, 
more and more charmed, studied this lovely 
creature, with dazzling eyes and graceful 
figure. And again, it was not Huberte he 
saw, but Catherine. They exchanged a 
glance, one of those meaning glances in 
which a man and a woman say so many 
things. Then, bowing respectfully, Maurice 
took his leave. 

What conflicting thoughts filled his brain 
as he directed his steps toward the forest! 

Madame Andr^zy completely bewitched 
him. Her grace and her beauty had captiva¬ 
ted this sensual and sentimental Parisan. 
And the strangeness of this double adventure 
enchanted him by its odd phases. After meet- 




78 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


ing Catherine in a railway carriage, he met 
Huberte in a ramble. It was the same 
woman, and yet they were two ! The young 
man analyzed himself thoroughly, endeavor¬ 
ing to read within himself. He admitted 
that he who, two days ago, had been ready 
to love Catherine with his heart, now desired 
Huberte with his senses. For he had judged 
the one and the other at a glance. Both simi¬ 
lar, yet both dissimilar. The first haughty, 
the second unreserved. The first proud, as a 
great lady who knows her worth and feels 
herself above vulgar adorations ; the second, 
a good-natured girl, who loved pleasure and 
was ready to take it wherever it could be 
found. 



VIII. 

It was a delicious day. The spring smiled 
through the shivering leaves, caressed by a 
cool breeze. After wandering through the 
forest for some time, Huberte and Maurice 
seated themselves under a natural grove of 
oaks and beech trees. The young woman 
spoke softly, relating the small incidents of 
her daily life, while she idly plucked tufts of 
grass. Oh! it was a very simple existence! 
She never went out of her villa but to return 
some visit and to take her morning walk. 
Five or six times a year, she gave a big 
dinner-party, to acknowledge the invita¬ 
tions she had received. 

“ You have but few distractions indeed,” he 
said, smiling. “I now understand why you 
should take pleasure in going to Dijon every 
week.” 


80 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


She started as if this simple phrase had 
been a blow in her face. Maurice then knew 
of this'apparently insignificant detail? What 
could it be to him ? She adroitly changed 
the subject of conversation by questioning 
him on his Parisian habits; for Huberte care¬ 
fully avoided speaking of herself. He had 
the good taste not to notice her embarrass¬ 
ment, and jested pleasantly over his 
former follies. And Mme. Andr^zy affected a 
great curiosity concerning that gay world, 
which she knew only through books and 
newspapers. She laughed boisterously, 
though a little nervously, when Maurice re¬ 
lated his farewell scene with Clotilde Vero¬ 
nese. This presentation of the future hus¬ 
band seemed very comical to her. Then her 
merriment was quickly succeeded by a fit of 
melancholy that was too sudden not to be 
affected. But the cleverest men are always a 
dupe to these little comedies played by a 
woman. They sometimes distrust sincerity; 
never hypocrisy. 

“You see, I laughed at your anecdote/’ 
she rejoined, with a sigh. “Yet, when I 
think it over, it seems sad to me. To think 
that a man as intelligent and distinguished 
as you, should become the toy of a girl.” 



HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


81 


At this moment a blackbird, perched on one 
of the branches that sheltered the young peo¬ 
ple, began to whistle. Maurice did not hear 
the blackbird, but he understood Madame 
Andr£zy’s allusive phrase. Those few words 
meant, in plain French: “Ah! my dear Mon¬ 
sieur, it is not such girls that give happiness. 
At best, it is an easily won pleasure, which 
is worth but little. There are in this world 
accomplished women, ill-used by fate, and 
who—” And the blackbird still whistled! 
“The warbling of the blackbird,” says Buf- 
fon, a solemn gentleman, “is very sweet, 
very melodious, but a little sad, as must be 
the song of all birds living in solitude.” With 
all due respect to the pompous naturalist, the 
warbling of the blackbird, on this particular 
afternoon, was neither sweet, melodious, nor 
sad. Mocking though ; oh! yes, very mock¬ 
ing ! But it may, perhaps, have belonged to 
that race of pink blackbirds of which Aldo- 
vrande speaks, and whose presence announces 
grave events. 

A man and a woman, when chatting on 
love, never find the time long. The human 
creature is such an egotist. Each brings into 
the conversation the recollection of personal 
adventures. The one thinks: “What a 






82 


HER SISTERS RIVAL 


wretch!” The other: “What a traitor!” 
And all goes for the best, until the two inter¬ 
locutors feel the desire of re-commencing a 
new experience. 

Maurice spoke a great deal of himself; Hu- 
berte, not at all of herself. This reserve, or 
modesty, piqued the young man. He finally 
asked a few such direct questions that she 
was obliged to answer. But with what dex¬ 
terity ! He was enlightened on one point, 
however; she had a sister, and this sister’s 
name was Catherine. Besides, she said a few 
vague words about the departed M. Andr^zy ; 
and how many allusions were contained in 
these vague words! He had scarcely been a 
husband to her! Such delicate health ! Such 
weak lungs! 

Maurice was not astonished at this song. 
The air was very familiar to him. The Pa¬ 
risian recognized the device common to cer¬ 
tain women. They are married ? Never, oh! 
never does the husband claim his rights. 
They are widows? He was an invalid, or 
dissipated, or— 

Why should love be perpetually bur¬ 
lesqued by ruses or vilified by falsehood ? 

A purple shadow descended from the moun¬ 
tain. The sadness of twilight enveloped the 



HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


83 


young people. They were now silent, ab¬ 
sorbed in thoughts. Huberte suddenly burst 
into a gay laugh. 

“We are becoming mournful, my dear 
neighbor,” she said. “ Let us beware; that 
gains on one.” 

“You are adorable!” he murmured softly. 

“ Thanks for the compliment. I take it for 
what it is worth. But let us talk of some¬ 
thing else. Exchanging souvenirs is not a 
gay pastime.” 

“You are right. Souvenirs are always sad ; 
they resemble the sands of the rivers. The 
gold-seekers find therein more mud than 
precious metal.” 

There was another short silence; then she 
remarked, in a playful tone : 

“ In any case you are a charming compan¬ 
ion, and I thank you for our pleasant stroll.” 

“Flatterer!” 

“No, I mean it. It would be a pity to 
spoil the rest of the day by spending it alone. 
Will you come and dine with me?” 

“ I shall be delighted!” 

Mme. Andr^zy again laughed joyously. 

“Do not be surprised at my gaiety,” she 
said. “I am thinking of the scandal that 
would burst in Arnay 7 le-Comte, if they sus¬ 
pected what we are doing.” 




84 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


“Heavens! what crime have we com¬ 
mitted?” Maurice exclaimed, in mock alarm. 

“We have amused ourselves, and that is 
high treason in the province. And in secret, 
too! Not taking into account that I would 
be horribly compromised! Just imagine: you 
called on me early in the day; we went walk¬ 
ing together; and, to crown all, I have the 
audacity to invite you to dine with me.” 

Mme. Andr^zy showed herself quite expert 
in the arrangement of little details. She ad¬ 
vised Maurice to go to the town immedi¬ 
ately, and to stroll on the Cours, where 
everybody could see him. After that he must 
return home and remain there until night. 
And, above all, he must not be guilty of the 
imprudence of coming to Les Audliettes by 
the high road. No, he must simply follow the 
sinuous course of the Argente, being careful 
to keep in sight the famous posts that were 
to be painted green. The last of these posts 
stood beside a small gate that opened into 
Mme. Andr^zy’s garden. 

“And now, my dear neighbor,” she con¬ 
cluded, “I must run away. I have given 
you full directions ; if you make a mistake, it 
will be your own fault.” 

She made a pretty little curtsey, as grace- 



HER S/STER'S RIVAL 


85 


ful as it was ironical. Then, with the quick 
movement of a frightened fawn, she disap¬ 
peared through one of the paths in theforest, 
leaving Maurice under the spell of her beauty. 

The young woman’s wit and humor fascin¬ 
ated him. He was charmed by her supple 
and undulating form, by the dazzling white¬ 
ness of her complexion, by the brightness of 
her black eyes with reflections of a sapphire 
hue. He did not realize that this fascination 
came less from her than from the other. 
Maurice was enamored of Huberte because 
he remembered Catherine. But a man in love 
can no longer analyze his sentiments. And 
again the Parisian weaved an odd romance, 
in which Catherine and Huberte played unde¬ 
fined parts. Would he love the first and be 
the lover of the second, or would he be the 
lover of both ? 

Time passes quickly in pleasant reveries. 
And what more agreeable thoughts can there 
he for a man of thirty, in whom chastity is 
not the dominating virtue ? Nevertheless, he 
did not forget to obey Mme. Andr^zy’s or¬ 
ders. On the Cours, Maurice had the good 
fortune to meet, one after the other, Mme, 
Poppleton, the cur£, the president of the tri¬ 
bunal and Mme. Balivet-Lamothe. As Con- 



80 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


stant had that very morning carried his 
master’s card to each of these high person¬ 
ages, Maurice had a pleasant word with 
everybody. 

Without knowing it, Maurice had just 
committed an act of great independence. He 
might, perhaps, have never suspected it; but 
the abb6, taking compassion on the naivet <5 
of his parishioner, was careful to inform him 
ofit a few days later. What! no distinction 
between the friends of the government and 
the people of the opposition! The same smile 
for both crowds! No difference between 
these and those! General opinion, however, 
remained favorable to the Parisian. But 
because he was a Parisian. No one but a son 
of that lost city would so scandalously ex¬ 
hibit such contempt for social proprieties. 

A little before seven o ’clock, Maurice started 
homeward. As soon as he found himself once 
more alone, he resumed his reverie. What 
welcome did the pretty Pluberte reserve for 
him ? Notwithstanding his confidence, he did 
not dare promise himself an immediate suc¬ 
cess. Madame Andr^zy, if only through cal¬ 
culation and prudence, would not yield so 
soon. And still! No matter, the evening 
would certainly be delightful. One can re- 








HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


87 


ceive a'great deal from a woman without 
obtaining—all. 

Night had now closed. The road was so 
dark that he could scarcely see two meters 
before him. And, luckily, the moon obsti¬ 
nately concealed itself behind a thick curtain 
of clouds. Maurice dressed hastily and went 
out. Then, descending to the bank of the 
river, he ventured on, not without some hes¬ 
itation, however. Fortunately the famous 
posts guided his nocturnal walk. The elec¬ 
toral railway was at last of some use. 




IX 

What a charming dinner! Huberte wore 
the toilet of a coquette, who is determined to 
conquer at any price. A toilet of somewhat 
questionable taste; but exciting, original, 
and more in the stxde of a tea-gown than of 
an evening dress. It was of light blue surah, 
with a profusion of white lace. The sleeves 
were yellow, as were also the silk stockings, 
which were half concealed by blue slippers of 
the same shade as the dress. A slight open¬ 
ing revealed the whiteness of a well-rounded 
throat. The material seemed molded to the 
form, and displayed every curve of the grace¬ 
ful figure: It was enough to intoxicate a 
reasonable man; and Maurice had never 
shone by his reason. He had guessed a-right: 
Huberte was pleased with him. Not daring 
to admit the fancy he inspired, she allowed 
him to guess it. 


HER SISTERS RIVAL 


89 


Maurice was not conceited. It is only 
idiots that imagine themselves adored by all 
women ; and Maurice was by no means an 
idiot. After all, why' should not Mme. 
Andr^zv take a fancy for an unexpected dis¬ 
traction? She must be very lonesome in 
this morose country place, where fate con¬ 
demned her to vegetate. The toilet, the 
smiles, the words, the allusions, all had a 
very clear meaning, and no one but an im¬ 
becile could have failed to understand. When 
he had come to this conclusion, Maurice 
almost immediately changed his manners. 
His seriousness became gaiety; his conversa¬ 
tion, until now half reserved, became bold to 
joyousness, ifnot to impropriety. By degrees, 
he forgot that he was dining with a society 
woman. Even the surroundings contributed 
to the illusion. The dazzling silver and 
crystals, in which were reflected the rays of 
the lamp and candles, the excellence of the 
wine, the delicacy of the dishes, recalled those 
gay Parisian suppers, where pleasure rather 
than love comes smiling with the dessert. 

“Ah! yes, I am very lonesome here,” re¬ 
peated Madame Andr&zy. “I am bored to 
death. You ask why I remain here ? Search, 
mon beau Monsieur /” 



90 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes brilliant, 
and she spoke with animation. 

“Search—search! Do you know that is 
not very easy, my pretty lady? Being a 
widow, you are free. Being rich, you are 
independent. Therefore, no one has the right 
to compel you to remain in this little town.” 

Huberte hesitated. Perhaps Maurice was 
beginning to see too clearly and too deep. So 
assuming a sudden gravity she said : 

“I might answer that there is a mystery 
in my life. But no, I will be more frank. In 
my husband’s time I possessed a large for¬ 
tune. In losing him, I lost two-thirds of my 
income, and had only my dowry left. To 
tell the truth, I have my little vanities like 
most women, and I could not bear to be 
pitied by my friends. Everything is relative 
after all. What is a fortune for this one, is 
actual want for that one.” 

The explanation seemed probable enough, 
and Maurice could easily believe that Ma¬ 
dame Andr£zy was telling the truth. Her 
history was thus the very counterpart of his 
own. 

“But never mind the past,” she said, sud¬ 
denly, with that nervous, forced laugh, 
which is the great resource of an embarrassed 



HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


91 


woman. “Let us think of the present. I 
owe you a charming day and a charming 
evening. Have you dined well, at least, my 
dear guest ? ’ ’ 

They had already suppressed the ceremoni¬ 
ous “Monsieur” and “Madame.” When a 
man and a woman are pleased with each 
other, they have quite a choice of appellations 
before brutally resorting to their first names. 

Huberte leaned on her companion’s arm to 
return to the drawing-room. As soon as 
they were seated, she rang for the coffee and 
liquors. When the servant had brought 
them, she said, quietW : 

“You may retire, Germain; if I need your 
services I shall ring.” 

This meant that she was not to be dis¬ 
turbed. 

“Now, make yourself comfortable,” she 
said to Maurice. “You may smoke; and 
I am going to set you the example.” 

As she spoke, she daintily lighted an Egypt¬ 
ian cigarette, and came and stood before the 
young man, adding : 

“ I dismissed the servant that I might have 
the pleasure of waiting on you myself.” 

They now spoke in a low voice, almost in 
a whisper. Her head slightly bowed, Mme. 



02 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


Andr^zy listened with a pleasure she did not 
attempt to conceal. 

“ You are the most bewitching creature 
I ever met,” murmured Maurice, leaning 
towards her. “Just fancy; before I knew 
you I imagined that I did not like brunettes. 

I was really guilty of that blasphemy. I will 
not tell you that you are pretty; it would be 
but a commonplace stupidity. You are—you 
are worse. I adore changingeyes like yours ; 
those eyes sometimes black, sometimes blue, 
in which thought is so well reflected.” 

She was still smiling; silent, with half 
opened lips, as if drinking in these words. 
Maurice was already opening his arms to 
clasp her. She arose abrupt^ and seated 
herself at the piano. 

“You will make me lose my wits,” she 
cried, with a smile that revealed her pretty 
teeth. “You are not behaving yourself. I 
will punish you with some music.” 

She played charmingly; not at all with the 
talent of an amateur. After one of Chopin’s 
waltzes, she commenced the first measures of 
the Swan Song in Lohengrin. Maurice came 
softly behind her, and, bending down, he 
kissed her on the neck, with a long, tender 
kiss. Huberte uttered a low cry, and fell 





HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


93 


back trembling, her head supported by the 
young man’s arm. Disengaging himself, he 
kneeled and clasped her hands caressingly. 

“ I love you!” he mumured. 

She shook her head mockingly, but in re¬ 
ality she was much agitated. 

“ So soon!” she whispered softly. 

“That is the reason. Love once born, 
grows quickly.” 

“Love!—oh, love!” 

She did not finish her thought, but he read 
it in the eyes that looked into his own; no 
longer dazzling, but filled with tenderness. 
Tenderness and desire manifest themselves by 
the very same expression of the face. 

“ I love you!” he repeated a second time. 

Was it the truth of the moment? Or was 
it that, seeing this adorable creature ready 
to give herself to him, his thoughts recurred 
to Catherine, whom he could not banish from 
his mind and heart ? Huberte murmured a 
few vague words. Then, as Maurice clasped 
her into his arms, she added, in an almost 
unintelligible voice: 

“Ah ! yes—love me—If you only knew—!” 




X. 


It was ten o’clock in the morning. Mau¬ 
rice had just awakened; having returned 
home only in the middle of the night. His 
slumber had been filled with enchanting 
dreams. He sincerely believed that he loved 
Huberte for Huberte’s own sake. Whether 
he loved her or not, he considered himself 
very happy. His exile now appeared in 
delightful colors. How could he have im¬ 
agined that he should meet such a woman 
in the depths of Morvan ? Once or twice, 
however, he had a rapid vision of the other , 
and a regret pierced his heart. 

But it was important that he should not 
awaken suspicion. He, therefore, exhibited 
himself to the principal personages of the 
little town. He was seen in turn at the 
club and in Mme. Balivet-Lamothe’s villa. 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


95 


Then as he left Mme. cle. Mathivon’s draw¬ 
ing-room he hastened to present himself at 
Mme. Poppleton’s. He was just in time to 
hear them speak of Mme. Andr<§zy. 

“Come quick, my dear Monsieur,” cried 
the fat Rosalie, as Maurice entered. We are 
just talking about Soif-d'E^ards” 

“ And what about her, Madame? ” he said, 
carelessly. 

“Madame Pemette and myself fear she 
must be ill.” 

“Indeed? ” 

“ Yes, she did not go to Dijon.” 

Maurice no longer had to affect surprise, 
as he did not understand a word. Why 
should they think Huberte ill because she had 
not left Arnay-le-Comte? Happily, with 
Mme. Poppleton, necessary explanations 
were always forthcoming. 

“True enough, my dear Monsieur; you 
are not aware that Madame Andr^zy goes 
every week to spend two days at Dijon, with 
one of her friends, Madame Couturier, whom 
she visits regularly-” 

And she went on, giving precise details! 
Huberte always left on Saturday afternoon, 
and returned on Monday morning. This 
Madame Couturier must be very old or an 



HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


<J6 


invalid, for she had never come to Arnay- 
le-Comte. At any rate, she lived a very 
retired life. The sous-pr6fet had questioned 
the secretary who had been told by the com- 
misaire de police, that no one in Dijon re¬ 
ceived Madame Andr^zy’s friend, and, beside, 
she was never seen at the theater. 

Maurice listened with nervous attention. 
This interminable prating did interest him, 
after all. At the end of half an hour, he 
took his leave. Was he, by chance, about 
to decipher the enigma of the sphinx? He 
walked on toward Charmoises, lost in 
thought. These weekly voyages, so punctu¬ 
ally made by Huberte, evidently concealed a 
secret. But what could this secret be? 
Maurice remembered how she had started, 
and how confused she had looked, when he 
alluded to the matter in her presence. Why ? 
And now these matrons remarked that 
Huberte had departed from her usual habits. 
And when? The very next day after their 
night of love. 

Maurice could not help connecting the second 
circumstance with the first. He w^as not one 
of those idiots who scorn a woman because 
she has given herself, neither was he one of 
those blockheads who judge her badly because 

6 Her Sister’s Rival 



HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


97 


she has given herself too quickly. Is it not 
Octave Feuillet who says, in M. de Camors: 
“ The fall of a virtuous woman is often of a 
rapidity that amazes.” No, nothing of all 
this influenced him. Only he found some¬ 
thing suspicious in Huberte’s manners. Why 
did her sister live in Paris, while she buried 
herself in the province? Why did Madame 
Andr£zy, being a widow and rich, endure 
this unendurable existence? Finally, why 
did she suddenly discontinue her weekly pil¬ 
grimages ? 

While he turned all these thoughts in his 
mind, Maurice had reached the chateau. 
Seven o’clock was striking. He had barely 
time to dress and rejoin Huberte; for they 
were to dine together as on the previous day. 
They were both sure of the discretion of their 
servants. 

“Bah!” he exclaimed, as he entered his 
room. “How stupid I am to harbor such 
chimerical anxieties. I have an adorable 
mistress'; I must accept her as she is, without 
looking for the whys and wherefores.” 

Easily said ; but one does not appease the 
tumult of the brain at will. Whether he 
willed or no, Maurice felt his anxieties and 
suspicions increase. When he had finished 




98 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


dressing, he feverishly took the path to Les 
Audliettes. 

Madame Andr6zy received him in the same 
toilet as on the previous evening. As she 
leaned affectionately toward him, he seized 
her hands and looking straight into her eyes, 
said abruptly: 

“You did not go on your visit to Madame 
Couturier today ? ” 

She turned pale and shrunk back. 

“I have just left Madame Poppleton’s 
house. This change in your usual habits 
has excited the curiosity of those busy- 
bodies—” 

He did not finish. A deep sadness—not at 
all simulated—suddenly clouded the young 
woman’s face. She sank into a chair with¬ 
out a word, gazing vaguely before her as if 
sinking into a profound meditation. 

“You do not answer me?” cried Maurice 
angrily. 

“What do you want me to answer? ” she 
replied. “You know nothing of my life, 
further than that I love you and have 
proved it. And it is on leaving my arms 
that you listen to those ridiculous gossips ! 
You suspect me? Of what? You surely do 
not blame me for yielding to you so quickly. 

























































































































HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


99 


Had I been a deceiver or a coquette, would I 
have acted as I did ? ” 

Huberte was evidently sincere. Her de¬ 
jected and reproachful tone expressed pro¬ 
found bitterness. Maurice was touched and 
regretted his hasty suspicions. Seating him¬ 
self beside her, he said tenderly: 

“I was in the wrong. Foolish thoughts 
traversed my brain. Forgive me.” 

“ Forgive you ?—Already!—’’ 

Just then dinner was announced, and Hu¬ 
berte changed the conversation. The two 
lovers took their seats at the table, but with 
very different dispositions from the preced¬ 
ing evening. Mme. Andr£zy, so gay, so 
lively, twenty-four hours before, now seemed 
dull and disenchanted. He, realizing his blun¬ 
der, was angrily accusing himself of stupidity. 
What folly to quarrel with this charming 
woman, and without tangible motive, on a 
mere suspicion unsupported by any proof! 
He exerted himself to amuse and distract 
her, to draw her out of her melancholy 
gloom. She smiled faintly, and answered by 
monosyllables. At last the meal was over. 
They were once more alone, and free from 
curious eyes. Maurice fell on his knees be¬ 
fore the young woman, and kissed her hands 
with caressing tenderness. 



100 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


“You said you had forgiven me. Then why 
are you not yourself again ? ” he said plead¬ 
ingly. 

“ Because I can not.” 

“ Huberte! ” 

She looked at him long. Then, as if it cost 
her an effort to evoke the past, she answered 
in a husky voice: 

“ Listen! I have many faults, but there is 
one at least that I have never had: that is 
dissimulation. Falsehood is repugnant to 
me. There was a moment when a lie might 
have changed the whole course of my life. 
But I could not utter it. I am too frank. 
Well, I demand the same frankness from 
you. What! you are silent ? ” 

“ It is—it is because I do not understand.” 

“You understand very well,” she said in¬ 
dignantly. And with a burst of supreme 
bitterness she cried violently: “ Ah ! men !— 

traitors, often—false, always ! ” 

She had risen, and with folded arms she 
went on imperiously: 

“You came to me two hours ago, your 
heart full of distrust and suspicions. Heav¬ 
ens ! of what did you not accuse me in your 
mind ! And yet, I have nothing to reproach 
myself with towards you. I have a right to 




HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


101 


know what thoughts have been working in 
your brain; how you could so quickly have 
scorned a woman who had given herself up 
so loyally to your love and to your honor! ” 
These clear cutting words moved Maurice. 
Huberte spoke with vehement frankness. 
Impossible to deny her almost brutal sin¬ 
cerity. 

“You want my confession?” he replied. 
“ Very well. I will conceal nothing.” 

And he told her all. How her charm and 
beauty had fascinated him at their first 
meeting; how his unreasonable suspicions, 
as absurd as they were inexplicable had 
been brought into existence. And finally, 
how the idle gossips of the little town had 
added to his personal conjectures. What he 
dared not avow, however, was that his dis¬ 
trust sprung from his meeting with Catherine. 
Why did one of the sisters live amid the 
splendors of Parisian life, while the other 
was buried in the obscurity of a provincial 
life? 

“If I understand you right,” she replied, 
“you are convinced that I harbor a secret. 
According to you, it is not from choice that 
I am living here, in this obscure region, but 
from an imperious necessity. You see me 




102 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


rich, free, a widow, and you cannot under¬ 
stand why I submit to an existence for 
which I am not fitted. Is it not so ? ” 

“Yes.” 

“ Over and above these suspicions of yours, 
have been piled up all those calumnies, and 
all those falsehoods. And I become capable 
of everything! Criminal because I inhabit 
Arnay-le-Comte;criminal because lam envied, 
hated; criminal because I have fallen in love 
with you!'” 

“Huberte!” 

“Ah, well! no. You have not told me all! 
You are clever and intelligent. You are a 
loyal man. Therefore, your suspicions would 
be idiotic were they not aroused by a circum¬ 
stance of which I am ignorant.” 

Maurice hesitated. Madame Audrey’s de¬ 
cisiveness inspired him with an instinctive 
deference. 

“ It is true,” he said. 

“Then frankness for frankness! 1 will 
reveal to you what you are ignorant of in 
my life; and you shall reveal to me what has 
caused you to judge me thus.” 

“ On my honor! ” 

There was a short silence. Then Huberte 
came nearer to him and looked into his face. 




HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


108 


“ I am not a widow,” she began. 

He started. 

“My husband is living,” she continued. 
“We are separated. The separation was 
pronounced against me. But why relate the 
drama ? Not only did I not lie, but I even 
accused myself to save my lover’s life! ” 

And as Maurice seemed stupefied by this 
audacious sincerity, she added, with a bitter 
laugh: 

“ And I was well rewarded for my sacrifice! 
But let that pass. And now for you. Every¬ 
body here told you that my conduct was 
irreproachable. Why did you not believe it? 
Why were you convinced that my past-” 

‘ ‘ Because I had already seen you before I 
saw you. In leaving Paris, I traveled with a 
young woman who was you without being 
yourself-” 

“Catherine! You know Catherine!” she 
exclaimed, in stupefaction. 

And, without giving Maurice time for re~ 
flection, she threw her arms around him, 
violently, ardently. 

“Now, do 3 'ou believe that I love you?” 
she cried. “Now that I have confessed my 
grievous error! ” 

A cooler man than he would have been 




104 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


disconcerted by the unexpected and abrupt 
changes of this feminine character. It is 
not, therefore, surprising that so passionate 
a being as Maurice, who analyzed but senti¬ 
ment, should have succumbed to the sen¬ 
sation. How could he now distrust Huberte ? 
Had she not just spoken with brutal clear¬ 
ness ? And yet an obscure thought was re¬ 
flected in that woman’s eyes—a thought that 
Maurice could neither understand nor guess. 
At the very moment when she seemed most 
loving, she was thinking: 

“Catherine again! Always Catherine! 
Must I forever encounter her in my path! ” 







XI. 

During the two weeks that followed this 
strange scene, Huberte intoxicated her lover 
with love and delights. This fascinating 
woman seemed to be endeavoring to change 
the fancy she had inspired into a durable 
love. Playful, caressing, passionate, she 
revealed herself a new mistress at each ren¬ 
dezvous, like that mistress, never the same, 
whom Balzac crudely calls “the seraglio 
woman.” Maurice gave himself up with¬ 
out suspicion. Little by little, she related all 
that she could relate of her past life. 

The twin sisters, Huberte, and Catherine 
Desroziers, were left orphans at the age of 
fifteen. Rich in beauty, they married on 
the same day. The former with a Bordeaux 
banker, M. Garlin-Rueil; the latter with a 
Parisian clubman, M. de Vrede, an idler who 


106 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


gaily spent the income of a considerable 
fortune. M. de Vrede’s father and grand¬ 
father had been among the most important 
vine-growers of the Charente. 

M. Garlin-Rueil belonged to one of those 
old Catholic families which bequeath, as a 
precious inheritance to each successive gen¬ 
eration, an old royalist patronage, as con¬ 
stant in their habits as in their beliefs. The 
treachery of one of his wife’s friends had 
disclosed her unfaithfulness. To avoid a duel, 
Huberte admitted her guilt; knowing that 
the young cavalry officer to whom she had 
sacrificed all, would have allowed himself to 
be killed rather than defend himself. Between 
public shame and secret dishonor, the banker 
did not hesitate. He applied for a legal 
separation, which he easily obtained, as 
Mme. Garlin-Rueil did not deny anything. 
She did not even make a pretense of defend¬ 
ing herself. 

Huberte confessed all this, little by little, 
knowing that Maurice would love her all 
the more for it. But however frank she may 
be, has not a mistress always some mental 
restrictions? Furthermore, the young wo¬ 
man praised her sister, Mme. de Vrede, in the 
highest terms. She told her lover that, thanks 



HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


107 


to Catherine, M. Garlin-Rueil’s resentment 
was lessened. After much urging, he had con¬ 
sented to pay his unfaithful wife a large 
pension, on condition, however, that she 
assume another name and retire to a 
small provincial town. That was why 
Huberte lived in Arnay-le-Comte under the 
name of Mme. Andr£zy. Maurice was on the 
point of asking her motive for choosing this 
little town of the Cote-d’Or, but she antici¬ 
pated the question. The bishop of Evreux, 
who was the banker’s cousin, was also a 
friend of the Abb6 Mingral. The episcopal 
recommendation procured the priest’s pro¬ 
tection for the exile. And, thanks to him, 
Huberte was welcomed everywhere. 

When he had learned this history in all its 
details, Maurice reproached himself severely 
for his own conduct in having mistrusted such 
a straightforward woman ! All that was 
obscure was now explained. Women do not 
always appreciate the value of frankness. 
In admitting the known errors, they prevent 
the suspicion of secret faults. A slave to 
his temperament, Maurice passed almost 
without transition from extreme distrust to 
absolute credulity. Mme. Andr£zy had had 
a lover. But this error was ennobled by the 




108 


HER SISTER S RIVAL 


loyalty other confession. The young man 
admitted that his mistress might have re¬ 
mained silent. No one could have recognized 
Mme. Garlin-Rueil under the name of Mme, 
Andrezy. In speaking out, in mitigating 
nothing, she appeared in a noble role. 

Huberte quickly perceived the empire she 
had acquired over the young man. Being very 
clever and of a sharpened intelligence, she im¬ 
mediately understood that her bold manoeu¬ 
vre had fully succeeded. Maurice belonged to 
her; he belonged wholly to her. Where is cred¬ 
ulous man, who, having misunderstood a 
woman, does not strive for pardon! Had 
the Parisian been less dominated by the exal¬ 
tation of his senses, he would have observed 
Mme. Andr^zv’s character with more exacti¬ 
tude. He would have seen that she was 
frank, but also very crafty. He would have 
seen that she foresaw everything,and neglect¬ 
ed nothing. And what tact she displayed 
in the way she planned their common exist¬ 
ence ! 

An intrigue, so easily carried on in Paris, 
is a very different matter in the province. 
Those poor women! A hundred Argus eyes 
are always open, watching this one, spying 
on that one. There are Madame Poppletons 
everywhere! 




HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


10U 


Huberte constructed a very skilful plan. 
By her advice, Maurice suddenly assumed 
mourning for a cousin who had never ex¬ 
isted. One fine morning the “notables” of 
Arnay-le-Comte received a card with a broad 
black border. M. de Fonde was announc¬ 
ing to his friends and acquaintances “the 
cruel loss he had just experienced in the per¬ 
son ofM.StephanedeRichaud,etc.,etc.” The 
composition of this -circular had given the 
two lovers a great deal of amusement. 

“Poor cousin Stephane,” said Huberte; 
“ let us not make him die too young!” 

“ Will seventy do ? ” 

“Not enough. He must be an octogena¬ 
rian. Otherwise my conscience will trouble 
me.” 

For forty-eight hours Maurice was forced 
to submit to the words of condolence of this 
one and that one. There was a perfect ava¬ 
lanche of “Dear Monsieur! Oh! how much we 
sympathize with you,” and the inevitable 
phrase : “ Life contains many cruel trials.” 
This imaginary mourning permitted Maurice 
to live in strict retirement. He slept late, as 
much through habits of laziness as to rest 
from the fatigue of his nocturnal visits. In 
the afternoon he went out on horseback, and 




110 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


dined in some distant tavern. The village 
notary, M. Balivet-Lamothe, and Mme. Per- 
nette had met him in turn at the four points 
of the compass. 

When he returned homeward, at about 10 
o’clock, silence and darkness enveloped the 
place. Madame Andrezy, on her side, occu¬ 
pied “society ” so well that nobody suspect¬ 
ed her secret intrigue. She showed herself 
everywhere, and redoubled in her politeness 
toward everybod}\ This adroit and skilful 
woman knew the weaknesses of her neigh¬ 
bors. They loved to dine at other people’s 
houses, through gluttony as well as through 
economy; and Mme. Andrezy was an excellent 
hostess. Twice a week she opened her doors 
to her friends, and kept almost open table. It 
was a very decorous meal,presided over by the 
abb£, during which deep religious thoughts 
were exchanged, between occasional thrusts 
at one’s neighbors. How far these slanders 
might have gone, had it not been for the 
presence of the venerable priest, whose 
simple and austere life commanded the 
respect of all, no one can say. 

In a few weeks, Huberte regained all her 
lost ground. The name of Soif-d'Egards 
was dropped. It was now considered very 
bad taste to use that nick-name. And what 




HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


111 


happiness for the young woman to again 
meet her lover after these pious love-feasts ! 
Maurice’s kisses seemed sweeter and more 
spicy after the monotonous evening. About 
midnight, the young man prudently locked 
his bed-room door, and softly descended to 
the garden. Huberte awaited him behind 
the little gate, enveloped in a large cloak, 
and both glided quietly into the villa. 

They thus avoided all gossip. Even the 
servants knew nothing. Sometimes, in those 
beautiful summer nights, the two lovers 
rambled in the forest, dreaming of their love, 
taking for the confidantes of their passion 
the large glades bathed in the diamond rays 
of the moon. But they did not often ven¬ 
ture on these nocturnal escapades, fearing 
to be seen on their return by some early 
peasant. This purely sensual passion ab¬ 
sorbed Maurice. This new mistress resem¬ 
bled in nothing the mistresses of his past life. 
Huberte’s love was sincere, and she reigned 
supreme in this liaison, which a chance meet¬ 
ing had formed and which chance also was 
to dissolve. 

One night Maurice found Mme. Andr£zy 
thoughtful and preoccupied. A fugitive sad¬ 
ness clouded her prett}^ face, and a strange 
nervousness agitated her. 





112 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


‘‘ What is the matter ? ” he asked. 

“ Oh! nothing,” she replied, making the re¬ 
sponse that never varies and which serves all 
women. 

Nevertheless, she did not l'ecover her van¬ 
ished gaiety. But a few days later she con¬ 
fided the cause of her secret sorrow to Mau¬ 
rice. Madame Couturier, her Dijon friend, 
was very ill and complained bitterly of Hu- 
berte’s neglect. She had that very morning 
received a very distressing letter. 

“Why not go then, mon amie?" 

“What! leave you?” 

“ Since it cannot be helped.” 

“ I shall never have the courage.” 

“ Think of the poor creature.” 

How often a man makes himself ridiculous 
at a woman’s pleasure. His mistress desires 
one thing, but absolutely refuses to accept 
it. It is he who then insists. It is he who 
invents pretexts and searches for excuses! 
And yet, a woman never laughs at the man 
she ridicules by her natural artfulness, sharp¬ 
ened by education. After numerous struggles, 
Maurice at last had the happiness of con¬ 
vincing her that she must go. It was de¬ 
cided that Mme. Andr^zv should be absent 
forty-eight hours. But how unhappy the 
thought made her appear. 





HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


113 


“Just think of it, ray friend,” she said 
sadly. “I am depriving myself of you for 
two whole days. And of my own free will, 
too ! Oh ! how lonesome I shall be in that 
city.” 

They separated at last, but withwery sad 
hearts. After all, the separation would not 
be interminable, and when it is a question of 
duty—In certain circumstances it is consid¬ 
ered good taste to use certain words. Those 
words never change; thejr seem to have be¬ 
come sacred by their very stupidity. 

Maurice resigned himself quietly enough. 
Purely sensual love is easily consoled. Once 
’back in Charmoises, he reasoned that, after 
this short absence, their meeting would be 
all the sweeter. The next day, however, 
seemed long and monotonous. After a stroll 
in the forest, he walked slowty to the town. 
But the distractions of a game of whist at 
fifty centimes did not dissipate his gloom. 
Had it not been for his good-breeding, Mau¬ 
rice would have yawned in his partner’s 
face. The only pleasure he tasted was his 
lonely dinner at the club. But how was he 
to spend the evening ? Huberte was to leave 
early the next morning, and they had agreed 
not to see each other again. 



114 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


The man who truly loves, dreams with 
delight of the hours too rapidly flown away. 
The remembrance of his happiness is as dear 
to him as the presence of the woman he 
adores. This was not the case with Mau¬ 
rice ; he continued to be lonesome; that was 
all. Suddenly an idea came to him, dictated 
less by the desire of seeing Huberte than by 
the wish to amuse himself. Why should he 
not join her there? Of course, he could not 
be seen anywhere with her; but she would 
know he was near, and would be srrateful for 
the attention. 

First of all he must be careful to avoid the 
envenomed gossip which their simultaneous 
departure might occasion. Why not go on 
horseback in the middle of the night? It 
would be delightful on this warm, moon¬ 
lit summer night, in the grand silence of the 
slumbering fields. 




XII. 

Certain naive persons imagine that we ac¬ 
quire experience in love. What a mistake! 
We are like the engineer on his locomotive. 
He directs this monster of brass and steel, 
and he knows its abrupt shocks. His itin¬ 
erary never varies; his experienced eye 
watches to the right and left, ever on the 
alert for a turning signal or a changing light. 
And yet there are accidents. We can never 
avoid what can not be foreseen. 

A passion resembles a train rushing at full 
speed. When aman is enamored of a woman, 
whether it be with the senses or with the 
heart, he can analyze her sentiments. He 
may have confidence in her, or he may mis¬ 
trust her; but he does not possess the gift 
of second sight, and can not imagine the im¬ 
possible or improbable. 

8 


116 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


On his arrival at Dijon, Maurice went 
straight to the hotel and had his horse 
stabled. A true horseman always sees to the 
wants of his horse before he thinks of himself. 
After a few hours’ sleep, he awoke refreshed 
and sprightly; and his lively imagination 
turned to reverie. Huberte would soon ar¬ 
rive. Why not go to meet her ? 

His windows opened on a large courtyard, 
shaded with trees. Maurice was on the 
point of ringing for a servant, when the 
sound of voices and repeated calls attracted 
his attention. Mechanically, he raised the 
curtain and looked out. A landau was 
entering the courtyard, and in this landau 
was Mme. Andr^zy in an exquisite summer 
toilet. 

“She must have feared the great heat of 
the day,” he thought, “and started earlier 
than she intended.” 

So much the better; the surprise would be 
all the sweeter. How delighted she would 
be to see him! He was giving her one of 
those proofs of affection that are so welcome 
because unexpected. He snatched his hat 
and hurried down. When he reached the 
Place Darcy , which extends to the entrance 
of the city, he was astonished to find that 



HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


117 


Mme. Audrey had already gone. The young 
woman, with a heavy veil over her face, was 
walking with a rapid, almost nervous step. 
Why did she now conceal her face? There 
was no air of mystery in her arrival a few 
minutes before. 

Dijon is a pretty town; and Messieurs les 
officiers do not dread it at all. A young 
cavalry officer was standing idly, no doubt 
admiring the sculptured beauties of the Porte 
Guillaume; he was examining it with rapt 
attention, from top to bottom. This atten¬ 
tion, however, ceased abruptly as Huberte 
approached. He turned quickly, and came 
toward the young woman, k£pi in hand, 
with a manner at once polite and assured. 

“ Oh ! oh ! ” muttered Maurice. 

He would not have been surprised to see 
his mistress accosted by an old woman; for 
the excellent Mme. Couturier must be old. 
But this lieutenant, with his elegant figure 
and pointed moustaches, stupefied him. Yet, 
it was scarcely stupefaction. Was it not 
rather that vague sentiment of uneasiness 
which takes a tenacious hold on us when 
we feel very near being ridiculed ? 

Madame Andr^zy and the young officer 
seemed to know each other very well; for 



118 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


they conversed with animation as they 
went down the Rue Guillaume, while Mau¬ 
rice followed, not ten meters behind, the 
very picture of misery. He followed without 
any definite idea of what he would do. This 
unforeseen event fairly took his breath away. 
He had expected anything but this indecent 
and brutal denouement. Still escorted by 
her cavalier (cavalier in more than one 
sense), Huberte traversed half of the city, 
and turned into the Rue de la Chaise. They 
stopped at the second house, and Maurice 
saw them discreetly disappear, while the 
door was quickly closed behind them. 

The Rue de la Chaise begins at the Cathe¬ 
dral square; and this square, which is much 
frequented at night, has a cafe and a restaur¬ 
ant. M. de Fonde saw that by entering this 
restaurant he would not lose sight of the 
mysterious house. So a few minutes later, 
the young man found himself seated on a 
velvet sofa, where he could reflect at his ease 
on the fragility of human love. Had he 
loved Huberte with his heart—with that 
veritable love which ennobles humanity— 
Maurice would have imagined a thousand 
suppositions before accusing his mistress. 
Madame Couturier might have a son or a 






















































































' 


























. 




119 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


nephew, whom she had sent to meet her 
young friend. Sensual love, which is not 
elevated by an ideal, is punished by its own 
baseness. It does not know the delicious 
anguish of doubt. It accuses at once, be¬ 
cause there is not one atom of esteem in its 
composition. And no human affection can 
live unless Continually nurtured by respect. 

Besides, an instinct cried the truth to Mau¬ 
rice. The dupe of a coquette? No, Huberte 
had never been a coquette with him. But he 
was the dupe of a corrupted, sensual and 
vicious woman. A little patience, and all 
would be settled forever. He would wait a 
few hours; and when he supposed Madaine 
Andr4zy alone—just then, his eyes caught 
sight of a large white card on the house of 
the Rue de la Chaise, on which he distin¬ 
guished the words, “For sale or to let .” 

“ There! there! ” he muttered. 

And calling the waiter he sent him in quest 
of the proprietor. The honest man came 
hurriedly in response to his customer’s re¬ 
quest, with that affability which is custom¬ 
ary to the Bourguignon. 

“ Monsieur,” said 'Maurice, without pre¬ 
amble, “ I desire to rent a house in Dijon, and 
that card over there attracted my attention. 
Can you give me any information ? ’ ’ 





120 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


“Certainly, Monsieur. The house will 
soon be vacant. It is now occupied by 
Madame Couturier, an elderly lady, who 
takes care of it for her mistress. This young 
lady lives in the country, and I have never 
heard her name. She comes every week to 
Dijon and orders her meals from here.” 

The Bourguignon spoke in that sing¬ 
song tone of his compatriots. He was dis¬ 
creet, and did not say one word too much; 
but the sarcastic smile that puckered his 
lips meant all that he left unsaid. Then he 
added, good-naturedlv, that the young lady 
had not been there for quite a while. “She 
would probably not remain long this time, 
as Madame Couturier had not ordered her 
breakfast as usual.” 

But Maurice no longer listened. The door 
of the house opened abruptly. The lieuten¬ 
ant came out hurriedly, looking very much 
displeased. v He was biting his mustache, 
and appeared quite vexed. Maurice arose. 

“ Thank you,” he said quietly. “ Since the 
owner is in the city to-day, I will try to come 
to some understanding with her.” 

And without haste or affectation, he quiet¬ 
ly walked out. In a few seconds he reached 
the mysterious asylum in which Mine. An- 



HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


121 


dr£zv hid her weekly escapade. The bell re¬ 
sounded through the house; the door was 
half-opened by a timid and aged servant, 
who appeared very much taken back when 
she saw Maurice. At this moment Huberte’s 
voice was heard from the floor above. 

“What is it, Marie? ” she asked. “I told 
you I would receive no one.” 

Guided by the voice, Maurice quickly as¬ 
cended the stairs, and found himself face to 
face with Mme. Andr^zy, who was leaning 
over the banister. 

“You receive no one, my dear madame,” 
he said in a jeering tone, as he bowed gal¬ 
lantly. “ Then you did not expect me! ” 

She uttered a shriek and recoiled, fright¬ 
ened, to the wall. A door at the left opened 
into a large room, elegantly furnished in 
Venetian brocade, and with heavy curtains, 
through which only a discreet light pene¬ 
trated. 

“I shall walk right in, since you do not in¬ 
vite me!” he continued, still smiling and 
keeping up his bantering tone. “Oh! what 
a pretty, room ! You must show me through 
your apartments. This is the boudoir, I 
suppose, and that the bed-room and dress¬ 
ing room. All of exquisite taste. Allow me 
to congratulate you! ” 



122 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


Huberte had followed him, terrified and 
bewildered. By what miracle was Maurice 
there? What hazard brought him to this 
house, which she believed was secret to every¬ 
body? He had quietly seated himself, with 
the calm assurance of a man master of him¬ 
self. He took a silver case from his pocket, 
and added, ironically: 

“ I do not ask your permission; I know— 
by experience—that you love cigarettes, and 
that the smoke does not annoy you! ” 

She was looking at him. This calm, this 
ease, frightened her. She would rather have 
seen him in a rage, in a frenzy, even if she 
were the victim. 

“ Yes—I know—you are astonished,” he re¬ 
sumed, between the puffs of smoke. “ I will 
explain. It is very simple—oh! indeed, very 
simple. I could not guess that you would 
find in Dijon such charming—distractions. 
Pray, excuse me; one cannot foresee every¬ 
thing. So I conceived the idea of giving 
you a surprise. You must admit that the 
surprise is greater than might have been ex¬ 
pected ! You spoke of your ennui when 
you came to visit your good friend, Madame 
Couturier. Apropos, this Madame Cou¬ 
turier looks very well as a cavalry officer. 



HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


123 


The blue uniform becomes her wonderfully 
well. Pray accept my compliments ! ” 

M. de Fonde stopped a moment to light 
another cigarette. He took pleasure in dis¬ 
tilling his sarcastic words, drop by drop. It 
was such fine pastime! Huberte, white and 
trembling, remained standing, motionless, 
with fixed gaze. 

“ I therefore resolved not to leave you here 
alone,” resumed Maurice. “I left Arnay-le- 
Comte during the night, and reached this 
place only a few hours before you. You 
alighted from your carriage at the hotel, 
and—” 

Huberte gave a hoarse moan, and fell on 
her knees, burying her face in her hands. 

“Say no more—oh! say no more—” she 
stammered. 

“What, my dear madame, does not this 
little story interest you ? You are difficult to 
please. I find it very amusing.” 

Huberte arose, slowly and painfully, clutch¬ 
ing at the furniture. She was playing no 
comedy. Her livid features, distorted by a 
nervous contraction, expressed her despair. 
After all, Maurice was not a cruel man. 
Whatever this woman might be, he had been 
her lover. He could not be blind to her acute 




]24 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


suffering. She who was unworthy of pardon, 
perhaps merited pity. 

“ You ask me to say no more ? ” he rejoined. 
“ Why not ? We must have an explanation, 
sooner or later. It might better be now. 
You suffer—I see it well. Ah! then, give me 
one excuse—one only. I ask no more.” 

i ‘ Ah! if I had one, would I not have 
already hurled it at you?” she cried, pas¬ 
sionately. Then in a husky voice, she added: 
“I deny nothing. I told you I never lied. 
I will tell you all. All! do you hear? Then 
—oh! then, you may think of me what you 
will! When my husband condemned me to 
a life of solitude in Arnay-le-Comte, he who 
had been my ruin asked for an exchange of 
garrison. He was sent to Dijon. And then 
—and then, it is the eternal story! His 
family, terrified by the scandal in Bordeaux, 
feared a liaison that would be enduring. 
They urged him to marry, and he obeyed! ” 

Madame Andr£zy spoke with an effort; 
the words choked in her throat. 

“ We dishonor ourselves for a man: this is 
how he repays us ! We had a confidant, one 
of his comrades in the regiment. He courted 
uie I was alone—unoccupied—perhaps I 
felt the instinctive need of revenging myself. 



HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


126 


And I did not realize that my revenge de¬ 
graded me, without punishing him. You 
can guess the rest. This had lasted one year 
when I met you.” 

She clasped her hands, and went on, in a 
broken voice: 

“I swear it, Maurice, you are the only 
man I ever loved ! I abandoned myself to 
the passion I felt for you, with delight. You 
resemble others so little! Your love—was 
my repose, my joy, my consolation! From 
the day I belonged to you, did I ever leave 
Amay-le-Comte, did I come to this place? 
Unfortunately, that man whom you saw a 
little while ago, pursued me with letters. 
Letters of entreaty and of menace. Why 
should I so obstinately insist on breaking 
off? Why not see him again? He said so 
much that I determined to end it all. He re¬ 
mained scarcely an hour. And as he forgot 
himself so far as to speak to me without the 
respect due to a woman, I drove him away, 
banished him ignominiously.” 

Maurice had listened in silence. Huberte 
was not lying. Her voice, husky at first, 
had become more animated as she proceeded, 
and the color had returned to her livid 
cheeks. 



126 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


“That may be,” he replied. “I believe 
you. The man who caused your ruin loved 
you enough to wish to be near you, at least. 
But the second ? Explain ! Anger, idleness, 
self-forgetfulness, need of vengeance? These 
reasons were not sufficient, for your liaison 
outlasted them, since you retained this 
house, since you came every week fora whole 
year!” 

The argument was irrefutable. Besides, he 
was not a man to revenge himself with 
words; neither was she a woman to accept 
them. Huberte became Huberte once more. 
Seeing herself lost, judged, condemned, she 
audaciously threw herself forward, as she 
always did. 

“You men are extraordinary!” she cried, 
with a painful, bitter laugh. “You are per¬ 
mitted everything; we nothing! Was I 
not dying of ennui over there? Have I 
not said so a hundred times? Then I am 
young, ardent—I have blood in my veins! 
What could have restrained me? Self re¬ 
spect ? I have none left! The fear of dis¬ 
grace? A whole city dragged me in the 
mire! Ah! what wild ideas haunted my 
brain during the long evenings in that little 
villa! Yes, I retained that lover; yes, Ire- 



HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


127 


tained him without, without tenderness-” 

Again, an abrupt change came over her. 
She threw herself on her knees for the second 
time. Big tears flowed down her cheeks; 
and, in accents of entreaty and supplication, 
she cried: 

“But at least I did not deceive you! I 
know that all is over between us; that you 
scorn and, perhaps, hate me. But say that 
you will believe me? Yes, you will believe 
me, for I have no interest in deceiving you. 
Beside, why should I ? I have loved you; I 
love you still! I ask but one thing: think of 
me, from time to time, as you would think 
of a girl whom you had honored with a 
caprice.” 

Her sobs choked her. 

Huberte’s last words touched Maurice’s 
heart. All was indeed over between them, 
but the unfortunate woman’s distress pained 
him. Some men cannot bear to see a woman 
weep. After all, whatever reproaches she 
deserved, he could neither accuse her of false¬ 
hood nor of dissimulation. She had told all, 
clearly, plainly, pushing frankness to cyni¬ 
cism. Controlling' himself, in spite of his 
emotion, he extended his hand and raised 
her. She attempted to throw herself on his 




128 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


breast; but he gently held her back, and 
seated her An a sofa. 

“ I admit all that I can admit in what you 
said,” he replied, after a short pause. “I 
believe you. I sincerely think you incapable 
of falsehood.” 

“Ah!” 


“I will only remember the delightful hours 
that I owe you, and that souvenir alone will 
survive in my heart. You were not a coquette; 
you did not feign your affection for me. Men 
always keep a tender recollection of women 
who have brought happy days into their ex¬ 


istence.” 

It was decreed that these two beings 
should not understand each other. In hear¬ 
ing these sweet words, shaded with a vague 
tenderness, Huberte shuddered and arose, 
violently. 

“And this is all you have to answer me?” 
she cried. 

“ What else can I say ? ” 

“Words of farewell, formal phrases!” 

As she said these words, she seized his 
hands with a passion that amazed Maurice, 
and added, vehemently: 

“Then you do not hate me?” 

“ I pity you.” 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


129 


She burst into a laugh—a laugh that 
grated on his ears j and in a hollow voice 
she hurled this phrase, which would have 
been unexplainable if, in women, all that is 
passion were not incomprehensible. 

If you do not hate me, it is because you 
never loved me ! ” 

And before Maurice could utter a word, 
she crossed the boudoir, opened the door and 
disappeared. 

8 Her Sister’s Rival 




XIII. 

A man deceived by his mistress sometimes 
suffers in his heart, but oftener in his vanity. 
With Maurice, however, it was different. 
To begin with, he knew he was loved. And 
then, the deceived party in the affair was 
the lieutenant, not himself! 

M. de Fonde dined copiously and with 
appetite, sprinkling his repast with good 
wine. He did not trouble himself about 
Madame Andr£zy. What did he care, after 
all? His moonlight ride had pleased him, 
and he resolved to recommence this capricious 
run in the coolness of the coming night. In 
fact his adventure ended as it should. Mau¬ 
rice knew women too well to form any 
illusions concerning Huberte. From the first 
hour, he had foreseen the inevitable issue of 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


131 


this liaison. The denouement came sooner 
than he expected ; that was all. 

When he reached Charmoises, he went to 
bed with a light heart, and slept peacefully 
until morning. The course of his thoughts 
did not change until he awakened. 

“ Hum! ” he thought, not without ashade 
of false shame. “ I must now accustom 
myself to solitude. I must admit it: that 
pretty woman was an agreeable neighbor!” 

Once started in this mood, the young man 
did not readily stop. After breakfast, he 
went out on the terrace to smoke in the open 
air and to continue his reverie. He recalled 
Madame Andr^zy’s charms with a shudder of 
desire. What bright intelligence, and what 
captivating beauty! 

“ Decidedly, I am an idiot. What differ¬ 
ence did it make to me whether she had or 
had not a lover at Dijon. I have made a 
mess of it, as Traville would say. I should 
have found out the truth, so as not to be de¬ 
ceived; and once convinced, I should have 
feigned ignorance. Then, when satiety came, 
I could have used the adventure as a pretext 
to break-off.” 

This course of reasoning was not very 
chivalrous; but sensual men are not heroes. 

9 



132 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


Thanks to pretty Huberte, Maurice had been 
fortunate enough to find an unhoped-for dis¬ 
traction. What would he do, now that this 
distraction was taken away? He was forced 
to admit that in the country, idlers are ex¬ 
posed to die from ennui. When he came 
to Charmoises, the Parisian intended to 
work. Had he not vine-yards, forests and 
fields ? If necessary he would imitate one of 
his neighbors, who was building a distillery at 
Jouey, not far from Arnay-le-Comte. How 
amusement it would be to create a new in¬ 
dustry ! Unfortunately Maurice’s knowledge 
of business was limited to horses. Hitherto, 
he had raced, and that cost him money. Ah! 
well,he would now try breeding, which brings 
money. 

The young man owned a part of the fertile 
prairie extending along the Argente. In a 
few days he would lay out a number of pad- 
docks, carefully distanced. As a first outlay 
he would spend 50,000 francs; not more. 
Four breeding mares at 8,000 francs 
apiece, one stallion at 15,000; this was all 
that was required. It was useless to pro¬ 
cure a numerous staff, A head man is glad 
to obtain a hundred and fifty louis in wages. 
By doubling this sum he could place two or 



HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


133 


three lads under his orders, as he intended 
to lodge them in the chateau. The affair 
would certainly be successful. In five or six 
years he could without difficulty dispose of 
a half dozen colts on the market. This 
would be clear profit. Beside, he did not ask 
to make money, but merely not to lose any. 

The rapidly conceived project was rapidly 
adopted. Maurice spent the first part of the 
day in figuring. Then he visited the mead¬ 
ows where he was to locate the paddocks. 
Suddenly he stopped short, as he caught a 
glimpse of Madame Andr^zy’s villa behind 
the trees. And then mares, paddocks and 
lads soon flew out of his mind. 

What had become of Huberte ? Of what 
was she thinking? Had she returned? A 
woman’s heart is so odd! Are not those 
strange creatures in perpetual contradiction 
with themselves ? Maurice recalled their 
abrupt separation; knowing her to be ardent, 
passionate, eager for vengeance, she might 
have remained at Dijon. The cavalry officer 
asked for nothing better than to be forgiven. 
And then- 

Maurice passed ten very disagreeable 
minutes. Even if not jealous, a man feels 
none the less annoyed at the thought that 




134 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


another—While reasoning thus, Maurice was 
nearing Les Audliettes; he was dying of the 
desire to know, and nothing prevented him 
from calling on his neighbor. Such a step 
might be in doubtful taste; but what of it? 
To this first idea: “ I shall go to see her,” a 
second was soon added: “If I were to renew 
my liaison with her?” The transition was 
very natural. And why not? No doubt the 
first interview would be embarrassing, but 
by playing a forgiving role, he could man¬ 
age it quite well. As to the young woman, 
she would become the repen tent Magdalen. 
Not in the Desert, though! But with the 
hope of re-recommencing! 

Having finished this fine imagining, Mau¬ 
rice threw himself at the foot of a tree to 
dream at his ease. 

“What I am about to do is not very chic,” 
he thought. “But then, I am not a Scipio 
Africanus, and I would wager that any of 
my club companions would do the same. 
And then, so much the worse for women. 
They are no more the dupes of our false¬ 
hoods than we are of their artful tricks.” 

His rem'orse being appeased, Maurice re¬ 
sumed his way to Les Audliettes. His heart 
beat fast as he passed the little door through 



HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


135 


which he had hitherto entered his self- 
created paradise. Although sensual love 
may be of inferior essence, it is nevertheless 
one of the forms of love, and perhaps the 
most delicious. Sensuality, however, knows 
the pangs of jealousy—and stands but little 
contradiction! As the great Spinoza says: 
“He who remembers the mistress who once 
charmed him, desires to have her his again, 
and in the same circumstances. His appetite 
is inflamed by the thought that another ex¬ 
periences the same desires.” 

A surprise awaited Maurice. He was 
greeted by a mysterious smile from Huberte’s 
maid, Julia. This pretty and pert wench 
was not in ignorance of her mistress’ secrets. 

“Monsieur will be much astonished,” she 
said; “ Madame is not here.” 

“ She is still at Dijon ? ” 

Again an enigmatic smile came to Julia’s 
lips. M. de Fonde seemed so much con- 
concerned that she was amused. She so 
well knew the ins and outs of the situation! 

“Oh! no, Alonsieur! Madame received a 
very grave despatch from Bordeaux. I may 
relate the story to Monsieur, for it is no 
secret, since Madame left the open despatch 
behind her.” 





186 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


She took a blue paper from the table and 
offered it to Maurice. The message contained 
these few words: “ Henri very ill; desires to 
see you; comeat once.” It was easily under¬ 
stood : M. Garlin-Rueil was in danger, and 
wished to see his wife before dying. 

“Thanks, my child,” he said, handing 
back the message. “Be kind enough to let 
me know when your mistress returns -if she 
returns.” 

“ Oh! Monsieur may count on me! ” 

Maurice left, apparently indifferent, but in 
reality much vexed at this unexpected de¬ 
nouement. 





XIV 

M. de Fonde was dining at Mme. Popple- 
ton’s that evening. The abb£, the President 
of the tribunal, Mme. Pernette and the 
Comtesse de Mathivon were among the 
guests. The latter belonged to the tribe of 
Cocusses, which form a legion in l’Autunois 
and the south of the Cote-d’Or. She made 
many enemies by her premeditated im¬ 
pertinences, and a malicious functionary 
conceived the idea of making a classified list 
of the Cocusses. It was as follows: 1 Co- 
cusse notary, 4 Cocusses grocers, 9 Cocusses 
wine merchants, 1 Cocusse mid-wife. This 
mid-wife caused much fun among the Arnais- 
ians, who are peaceful people, and easily 
amused. Jests were frequent on this subject. 
And when a small town laughs at a joke, an 
adventure, a raillery, or a pun, it is repeated 


138 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


to satiety. This papal Comtesse, though 
forty, still retained her former pretentions. 
While she resided at Dijon, the officers had 
not found her very cruel; and her gay past 
prevented her from being indulgent toward 
her neighbors. Women, who have amused 
themselves a great deal, never forgive others 
the grief they feel in growing old. 

Physically, she resembled a gendarme 
masquerading in female attire. Tall, strong, 
imperious, Madame de Mathivon was not 
yet disarmed. There still remained vestiges 
of coquetry from her former love intrigues, 
which made her thirst for admiration. So 
the Comtesse wore a red wig, and painted 
her eyebrows. But her wig always fluttered 
from right to left like the wing of a part¬ 
ridge, and her eye-brows were invariably 
traced too high or too low, and never at the 
same place. 

“Well!” she exclaimed, as she tasted her 
soup, “ it seems that Soif-d } Egards has sud¬ 
denly left! ” 

“ She has gone to rejoin—Henri! ” declared 
M. Lecarnet, president of the tribunal, with 
a knowing air. 

“ Ah! yes, the Henri of the dispatch.” 

Whence came the indiscretion ? From the 



HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


139 


employes of the telegraph or from Julia. In 
the province, one never knows. The most 
mysterious news circulates rapidly; and 
everybody jumps at it like carps at bread 
crumbs. 

“As you are her neighbor, M. de Fonde,” 
said Mme. Poppleton, “you must know 
when she left.” 

“Indeed I do not, madame. I presented 
myself at Les Audliettes to pay my respects 
to Madame Andr^zy, a few hours ago, and 
it was then I learned of her departure.” 

“ It is astonishing that you were not more 
intimate,” observed the Comtesse, mali¬ 
ciously. 

“On the contrary, madame, there is noth¬ 
ing astonishing about it,” retorted Maurice, 
drily. “Madame Andr^zy is young and 
pretty; and by showing her the least atten¬ 
tion I should have compromised her.” 

“Oh! what a big word! ” 

“A correct word. You are not merciful, 
mesdames les Arnaisiennes; and I am not 
sorry to find the opportunity of saying so. 
We men pass for great gossips, in our club; 
but we utter less slander in a month than 
you do in twenty-four hours.” 

“Bravo, my dear child! ” cried the abb£. 




140 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


There was a murmur of approbation. 
Madame de Mathivon was so cordially de¬ 
tested. 

“Do not calumniate us, Monsieur de 
Fonde! ” she said in her gendarme voice, as 
she flushed with anger. “You will soon 
imitate us. I wager that before six weeks 
you will speak ill of me.” 

“Of you, madame? I am sure that I will 
not.” 

“Indeed ?” 

“Certainly not, since I have had the honor 
of dining in your house.” 

“ That suffices you ? ” 

“When I have broken bread, and eaten 
salt at a person’s table, thatperson is sacred 
to me.” 

“ Like the Arabs ? How charming! M. de 
Fonde is quite poetic.” 

“I do not know if I am poetic, but I am 
sure I am not malicious ! ” 

The retorts might have become more en¬ 
venomed, but the abb6 hastened to change 
the conversation. After dinner, a mild game 
of poker was organized; this agreeable game 
has penetrated even the most distant prov¬ 
inces of France. 

About 10 o’clock, Maurice arose to take 





RHER SISTER ’ SIVAL 


141 


his leave. Before retiring he approached the 
abb£ and said in a low voice, that no one 
could hear: 

“ Monsieur le Cure, can you receive me to¬ 
morrow morning? ” 

“ Certainly! ” 

“ At what time? ” 

“ Come at eleven, and breakfast with me. 
I promise you some fine Argente trout, as 
you love it —a la meuniere! ” 

“ I accept, Monsieur le CurA As much for 
you as for the trout! ” 

And the young man went out, yawning 
and in bad humor, discontented with him¬ 
self and with everybody else. How unfortu¬ 
nate that Huberte should be absent! He 
would have joined her with keen pleasure, 
at this moment! This thought led him into 
a reverie that lasted until he fell asleep. The 
next morning he sat down to a gay break¬ 
fast with the cure. 

“You have then a grave secret to impart 
to me? ” asked the ecclesiastic, smiling. 

“Grave—no. I merely want to explain 
the cause of my departure,” replied Maurice. 
The abbe burst into a merry laugh. 

“What was my prediction when you first 
came? With your character and more 
especially with your Parisian habits-” 





142 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


“ Pardon me, if I interrupt you, Monsieur 
le Cure. I am not leaving Arnay-le-Comte 
with the intention of not returning. What 
I have missed until now, is a serious occupa¬ 
tion. Well, I have found one; but I will ex¬ 
plain my projects by-and-bye. Now what 
terrifies me is the summer. Ah! if you 
knew what thoughts came to me yesterday 
at Madame Poppleton’s dinner! Just to 
think! each evening to hear the same jests, 
the same puns, the same petty slander! To 
play that intolerable poker with the same 
intolerable people! Never. I fly! When I 
return, in the middle of October, my ar¬ 
rangements will be made. I shall then be 
busy all day; and as I shall rise with the 
sun, I will go to bed early. And I can then 
do without the inhabitants of this little 
town. You will look around the country 
for an honest girl; it matters not if she be 
without a sou of dowry, only I want her 
pretty enough that I may love her. Then I 
shall marry her. I will try to have many 
children, and make them good Christians 
and good Frenchmen. This is the sum total 
of my ambitions.” 

“You are an honest-hearted fellow, my 
dear Maurice,” said the abbe, with emotion, 





HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


143 


as he extended his hand. “ All is well when 
we place our trust in God. You told me on 
your arrival here that you were not the 
same as in the old days. It is true: you 
are better. Now explain the work you are 
going to undertake.” 

In a few words, Maurice told his inten¬ 
tions. Abbe Mingral knew too little of 
sporting matters to approve or disapprove 
of his plans. It sufficed, however, that he 
chose some kind of respectable occupation 
for him to please the worthy man. Before 
Maurice left, he was treated to a little lec¬ 
ture on his private habits; but with much 
mildness, almost with tenderness. It was 
thus that this remarkable man, who re¬ 
called the Saints of the early Church, went 
through life, doing good. He so well de¬ 
served respect, that even the adversaries of 
his belief always spoke of him with venera¬ 
tion. Unfortunates never left the pastor’s 
manse without being somewhat reconciled 
to existence; and the uneasy, tormented, 
nervous ones, such as Maurice, in leaving 
his presence, carried away that intellectual 
and moral repose inspired by the serenity of 
a noble soul, superior to all vulgar human 
passions. 



XV. 

The season at Aix-en-Savoie is at its height 
during the months of August and Septem¬ 
ber. Were bathers alone to visit this resort, 
the place would be as dull as Le Mont-Dore 
or Royat. But cocottes, gamblers, and 
people in search of pleasure also flock there 
in great number. Thus one finds the two 
well defined camps: the invalids who go to 
the bath, and the gamblers who go to the 
baccara. Strangers who come merely to 
enjoy an admirable climate and a delicious 
country, form a category apart. M. de 
Fonde belonged to this class; he wanted 
distractions and chose Aix-en-Savoie. 

The first thing we do on our arrival at 
a thermal station is to search right and left 
for friends, or even simple acquaintancese, 
who may have preceded us. 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


146 


“Pshaw! ’ mused Maurice, “why should 
I bother myself. I am in a first-class hotel, 
and will soon find somebody to talk with.’’ 

He was far from thinking he had guessed 
so well. 

The young man occupied a large room on 
the ground floor, which opened directly into 
a pretty and inviting garden. As the heat 
was suffocating, he stepped out into this 
garden to breathe a little pure air before 
breakfast. Suddenly he caught sight of a 
young woman seated on a bench and bend¬ 
ing over a child, seven or eight years of age, 
who was stretched in a small carriage. 

“ An elegant figure,” he thought. 

He took a few steps toward her, and 
turned his head to look at her. He stopped 
short, in stupefaction, stifling a cry that rose 
to his lips. It was Catherine! Why he did 
not say, “ It is Huberte! ” he never knew. 
Without hesitation, he walked straight to 
Mme. de Vr£de, and bowed respectfully. 

“I believe you do not recognize me, 
madame,” he said. “I arrived only yester¬ 
day. I meet you now, in this place, for the 
first time, and hasten to present my 
homage.” 

Catherine turned her eyes on him at fhe 




146 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


first words. Her face was pale, and she 
seemed sad. 

“I remember you very well, monsieur,” 
she replied, with a slight inclination of the 
head. “ We were traveling companions, for 
a short distance, three months ago.” 

“Then, madame, since you do me the 
honor of remembering me, allow me to give 
you my name: Maurice de Fonde, a retired 
Parisian, at present a provincial. If Mon¬ 
sieur de Vr6de is at Aix, I shall be happy to 
be presented to him. If you are alone here, 
pray consider me your most humble ser¬ 
vant.” 

Catherine had started. How came this 
stranger to know her name ? It was only 
after the lapse of a few moments that Mau¬ 
rice perceived his blunder. As he was deter¬ 
mined, however, not to lose this opportunity, 
he again bowed politely, and seated himself 
on the bench beside the young woman. 

“Your son is ill, madame?” he said lower¬ 
ing his voice. 

She cast a long tender glance on the child, 
who was listening, gazing at the stranger 
with his large, intelligent, dreamy eyes; 
those soft eyes filled with melancholy and 
regret, which we see in those poor beings 
doomed to early death. 



HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


147 


“ The dear child has rheumatism. The phy¬ 
sicians assure me that the waters of Aixwill 
cure him. You are not suffering just now, 
my darling? ” 

“No, mamma. I am very well to-day.” 

“And you will be still better when you 
leave this place, my little Jacques,” said 
Maurice gently. 

Mme. de Vr£de again started in surprise. 
Not only did this young man know her own 
name, but that of the child. Maurice had 
allowed his first imprudence to pass un¬ 
noticed; he now attempted to explain the 
second. 

“A lew words will dissipate your surprise, 
madame, he said. When you entered the 
railway carriage in Paris, where I had the 
honor of meeting you, Monsieur deVr^de ac¬ 
companied 3 ^ou. As he was leaving, you 
said: “Take good care of Jacques.” And 
he answered : “ Have no fear.” 

Impossible to express a sentiment with 
more cleverness. A man chances to meet a 
woman in a rail way-carriage, and converses 
with her for an hour. Three months later 
a new hazard places this man in that 
woman’s path; and the former has not for¬ 
gotten the words of the latter. The least 

IO 



148 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


coquetish woman in the world, the most 
frank and upright, could not help being flat¬ 
tered by such a delicate compliment. M. de 
Fonde again bowed to Mme. de Vr6de, smiled 
to the child, who had not removed his eyes 
from him, and walked away. 

How changed she was ! How she must 
have suffered in that short time! Maurice 
again found himself in the same state of 
mind as on the hour when Catherine left him 
at Joigny. This short conversation had not 
lasted a quarter of an hour; and yet those 
few minutes sufficed him to note the differ, 
ence which existed between the twin sisters. 
Huberte was as beautiful, as shapely, as in¬ 
tellectual as Catherine. But what a strange 
phenomenon! Both absolutely alike, phys¬ 
ically ; yet both absolutely dissimilar, mor¬ 
ally. The first, inspiring one with the bold¬ 
est thoughts of love; the second, calling forth 
nothing but thoughts of the most reserved 
respect. The one, sensual, the other, chaste; 
the one, living by the senses, the other, living 
by the heart. And yet nature, by a mysteri¬ 
ous caprice, had created striking similitudes 
between them, outside of the exterior re¬ 
semblance. Thus both were equally frank, 
sincere, ardent, incapable of falsehood or 
dissimulation. 




HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


149 


A traveler relates that in Japan, in the 
province of To-Kai-do, which is bathed by 
the Oriental sea, there exist two herbs, 
scarcely distinguishable one from the other. 
One field produces fine, light straw, which the 
natives weave into delicate baskets; while 
the twin field beside it produces the grain 
from which is extracted the saki, a violent 
liquor which crazes the drinker. 

Immediately after breakfast, Maurice vis¬ 
ited the town shops and chose the toys 
which would be most amusing to a child of 
Jacques’ age. He had them sent to the hotel 
with his card. He resolved within himself 
that he would search for no occasion to meet 
Catherine. That noble woman inspired him 
with such respect, that by acting otherwise 
he would have believed himself guilty of 
offending the idol he venerated in secret. The 
next day, however, he went down into the 
garden at the same hour as on the previous 
day. A surprise awaited him. Jacques was 
there, but with his mother’s maid. 

“Good morning, Jacques,” said the young 
man, as he approached. “How do you feel 
this morning? ” 

“Still better, monsieur,” said the little 
invalid, a smile lighting up his pale face. 




150 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


“ Thank you very much for your toys ; it was 
kind of you to send them.” 

“Were you pleased with them ? ” 

“ Very much.” 

“I am delighted. You must ask me for 
whatever may please you.” 

“ If I dared—” 

“Dare, my dear child,” said Maurice, en¬ 
couragingly. 

Jacques again smiled. He was really a very 
pretty child, notwithstanding his poor little 
emaciated face, which was lighted up by 
large black eyes, like those of his mother. 

“ Oh! I know why everybody spoils me,’ ’ 
he rejoined, quickly; “ it is because I am not 
well, because I am forced to be quiet. They 
wish to recompense me. I don’t deserve it, 
though, for if I could I would be as noisy 
as the others.” 

“When you are cured, you can make up for 
lost time,” said Maurice, laughing. 

“ Do you think so. But you told me to ask 
for what I wished. When mamma is with 
me—and mama is always with me—she 
tells me stories—” 

“ I understand ! You want—” 

“ Ah! yes, do—mamma started early this 
morning for Lyons. They say there is a 



HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


151 


great doctor there. She wrote for him, but 
he never came. So she has gone after him.” 

“ Ah! well, never mind. I will try to take 
your mother’s place in the story-telling busi¬ 
ness. Only, I am afraid I shall not be as in¬ 
teresting.” 

Maurice had never troubled himself to find 
out whether or not he possessed any imagi¬ 
nation. It is a quality quite unnecessary to 
people who devote themselves to pleasure. 
He was, therefore, much surprised with the 
ease which he was able to display in his im¬ 
provisation. At first, his childhood recollect¬ 
ions served him in good stead. Then one who 
travels a great deal, gathers legends here and 
there, which are stored in one’s memory. 
Jacques was so pleased with his new friend 
that he urged him to come to his mother’s 
apartments during the day. It was hardly 
correct. Bu+ the maid, a dull Swiss, did not 
dare raise any objections, knowing that the 
child’s whims were always obeyed. Maurice 
promised Jacques that he would accede to 
his wishes, and kept his word. 

Was he acting thus to impress Mme. de 
Vr£de in his favor? No, indeed. He instinct¬ 
ively loved the child, on account of his 
mother. Besides, the contact of a superior 




152 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


woman, such as Catherine, immediate^ 
elevates the morals and ideas of a man. 
There may also have been contrary impulses, 
impossible to analyze, conflicting in his 
mind. He remained with Jacques the great¬ 
er part of the day. Madame de Vr6de was 
to .return for dinner, and Maurice had the 
tact to withdraw in time to avoid. meeting 
her. And how happy he had been in that 
little hotel boudoir, relating stories to the 
child! He neither saw the gloomy walls, nor 
the common-place furniture. The absent 
Catherine was present and near. 

At the accustomed hour the next day, 
Madame de Vr£de went down into the gar¬ 
den, where she had met Maurice two days 
before. As she caught sight of him, she came 
straight to him, with extended hand. 

“How kind you are, yes, how kind you 
are! ” she exclaimed. 

“Oh! madame!—” 

“Do not excuse yourself! When a man 
loves children, it is because he is really good. 
And when he remains good after the life 
you have led, it is because he is excellent! ” 

He smiled at these words, which contained 
a somewhat harsh criticism: “ After the life 
you have led.” 



HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


153 


Madame de Vr£de saw his smile, and was 
too quick not to understand it. 

“I am wrong,” she said. “I must apolo¬ 
gize in my turn. But I am very happy to¬ 
day. I succeeded in bringing Doctor Jamette 
with me from Lyons, and he is not alarmed 
at Jacques’state of health. Do you under¬ 
stand my joy ? ” 

She was standing before Maurice, who was 
contemplating her withecstacy. Catherine’s 
first distrust had disappeared. M. de Fonde 
now pleased the woman, because he had 
touched the heart of the mother. 





Although the physicians ordered plenty of 
mountain air for Jacques, he was forbidden 
to walk. He went out every morning after 
breakfast in his little carriage, pushed by the 
maid, and escorted by the mother and M. 
de Fonde. At first, Madame de Vr£de might 
perhaps have dispensed with Maurice; but 
Jacques claimed his friend with so much 
earnestness that he.had to be obeyed. In this 
daily intimacy, the young man appeared at 
his best—kind, intellectual and affectionate. 
Little by little he related his history to his 
new friend; it was a very ordinary and 
commonplace history, but one which was 
not unfavorable to him. He concealed but 
one period of his life: his recent sojourn at 
Amay-le-Comte. He would reveal the truth 
later on, he thought. Why should he now 
trouble this feminine imagination ? 



















































































































































































» I 




















































HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


155 


Catherine, on her side, admitted that Mau¬ 
rice’s companionship was a precious re¬ 
source. The poor woman had few distrac¬ 
tions. To overlook the treatment of her 
son, and to follow him in his daily outings, 
were her only amusements during the day. 
In the evening, at nine o’clock, the child 
went to sleep. Formerly, after that hour, 
she had remained alone, but now Maurice 
had become her faithful attendant. They 
often went down into the garden, forgetful 
of all in their long conversations. Some¬ 
times they even followed the path to the 
lake, or entered a carriage and ascended the 
hills in search of fresh air. Both seemed to 
voluntarily avoid any allusion to love. 
Catherine understood his sentiments, but 
the virtue of this noble woman was so ex¬ 
alted, that it inspired him with an inviolable 
respect. In her heart she admitted that this 
discreet and silent love pleased her more 
than she could have believed possible. She 
was happy to feel herself treated as an idol. 
Who could have imagined that this frivolous 
Parisian, this habitu£ of coulisses and petits 
boudoirs , could maintain such perfect con¬ 
duct? 

She gradually became bolder. She re^ 



156 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


sponcled to Maurice’s confidences by speak¬ 
ing of her past. But she never alluded to 
her girlhood; she only spoke sadly of a 
beloved sister, whom fatality condemned to 
live far away from her. As to the rest, oh! 
it was a painful and lamentable story! A 
vicious, corrupted, libertine husband, who 
spent his life in gambling houses, and paid 
but little attention to his wife. Maurice 
listened, divided between two contrary 
sentiments: sad, because she was so un¬ 
happy ; delighted because she did not love 
her husband. Her heart was free! Many 
causes united to cloud this apparently bril¬ 
liant existence. Jacques had been born 
strong and healthy, but he had contracted 
rheumatism at an early age. The family 
physician had advised a long season at Aix- 
en-Savoie; and Mine, de Vr6de was forced to 
undertake the sole care of the boy, as her 
husband could not be induced to leave his 
pleasures. 

For the first time in his life, Maurice truly 
loved a woman, with none but noble 
thoughts in his mind, and with an elevated 
ideal in his heart. Proud beings, such as she 
was, impart a little of themselves to those 
who approach them. Moreover, she exer- 




HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


157 


cised a particular fascination over this young 
man. It sufficed him to recall the beauties 
of his former mistress, to divine those of the 
twin sister. Just by closing his eyes, he 
again saw the elegant, graceful form of 
Madame Andr^zy—that supple shape, with 
its firm and pure lines. It was, therefore, as 
if he knew Catherine physically. To him, 
she had thus the attraction of the unknown, 
and the charm of the already known. 

These relations existed for a couple of 
weeks, when one morning the Swiss maid 
came to M. de Fonde’s door, with a mes¬ 
sage from Madame de Vr6de, requesting him 
to come to her apartments. 

“What is it?” he asked, anxiously, as he 
saw Catherine, so pale and wan from the 
fatigues of a sleepless night. 

“Jacques is ill,” she said, sadly. 

“ And you are troubled ? ” 

“ I am wild. Last night I could not sleep, 
and I heard him moan. I arose and hurried 
to his bedside. He looked at me with his 
eyes full of tears, clinching his teeth as he 
always does when in pain. I immediately 
sent for the doctor.” 

“Can I be of any use to you. I am en¬ 
tirely at your service.” 





158 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


She pressed his hand gently. 

“I will not attempt to thank you; you 
have spoiled me. Stay with Jacques. Your 
stories are new for him, and amuse him 
better than mine.” 

The poor child was suffering from an 
acute attack of muscular rheumatism. He 
was enduring atrocious pains, and burning 
with fever. Mme de Vrede remained in the 
sick room all day, and Maurice refused to 
leave her. 

“ My friend, you must go for a walk,” she 
said about four o’clock. I do not want you 
to be a victim of your devotion.” 

“ Very well,” he assented. “I will consent 
to leave you for an hour, but on one condi¬ 
tion. When I return, you must also go 
out.” 

“ Leave Jacques ! ” 

“ I beseech you, do not make useless sacri¬ 
fices. I am enough your friend to have the 
right to make a request; if need* be, to give 
an order. We must arrange matters that 
we may be with the child in turns. It would 
not do for both of us to be ill.” 

“ You are right.” 

She had called him “my friend!” These 
two words sounded delicious in his ears. 
While he thoughtfully followed the road to 




HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


159 


Marlioz, Maurice wondered if more cruel 
trials were not in store for Catherine. After 
the consultation,the physician had appeared, 
if not anxious, at least troubled. What 
then did this wise L 3 -onnais mean, with his 
reassuring statement ? Maurice returned to 
the hotel, rested and refreshed by his walk. 
Obediently following his advice, Madame de 
Vr 6 de started out in her turn. She felt tran¬ 
quil since she was leaving Jacques under such 
vigilant care. As she entered the room, on 
her return, Maurice made her a sign to walk 
softly. 

“ He is asleep,” he whispered, “ and I have 
left him with the maid. Come into the parlor, 
I want to speak to you.” 

When they were alone, he added : 

“I feel that you have confidence in me; I 
thank you, and assure you that it is not mis¬ 
placed. I love that child because he is yours. 
It is important that we should not leave 
him, so I propose these arrangements: After 
dinner I shall go to bed and sleep until mid¬ 
night. Then I will assume the care of him 
while you take the necessary rest.” 

Catherine looked at him with grateful 
eyes. He thought of everything, with the 
careful foresight of the heart which had given 



160 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


itself forever. Did not the phrase, “Hove 
that child because he is yours,” contain the 
most delicate and charming of avowals? 

The next day Jacques was worse. The 
fever had increased, and his limbs were 
swollen. During the third night, he became 
delirious. He moaned and cried, complain¬ 
ing that a painful oppression prevented him 
from breathing. The young mother was 
awakened by the cries, and dressing hastily, 
she joined Maurice. 

“My darling, my darling,” she cried in 
despair. “ It is I, your mother. Do you not 
know me?” 

Jacques fixed his haggard eyes on his 
mother—those wild eyes from which con¬ 
sciousness had fled. Overcome by despair, 
Catherine burst into tears. In vain did 
Maurice try to comfort her; the unhappy 
mother only shook her head wildly. 

“This is too much—yes, this is too much !” 
she cried. “ I have always suffered, always! 
Unhappy as a } r oung girl, since I was an 
orphan; unhappy as a sister, since she who 
should have been my best friend was jealous 
of me and hated me. Unhappy as a wife! 
And now heaven strikes me in my dearest 
affections.” 




HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


161 


Her tears changed into sobs. Suddenly 
Jacques’ moans ceased. The child recog¬ 
nized his mother, and extended his little arms 
to her. 

“ Oh ! mamma, mamma,” he cried, “ if you 
knew how I suffer.” 

Little by little, however, the pains lessened, 
and he fell into a sleep that lasted the rest of 
the night. When the doctor called in the 
morning, he was much surprised at the 
change. There was no more fever, scarcely 
any rheumatic pains. He dared not tell the 
delighted mother all he thought. Was it a 
symptom of recovery, or simply a halt in the 
disease ? Catherine could scarcely believe in 
her happiness. How could she have imagined 
that her troubles and sorrows could thus 
vanish in a moment? She again became 
smiling and gay. 

“It is you who bring me good fortune,” 
she said to Maurice, as she pressed his hand. 

He felt a thrill. The touch of the white 
skin went through him. 

“ You exaggerate, madame,” he replied. “I 
merely tried to give 3^ou good advice. Now, 
here is my plan: Jacques is asleep; the poor 
child is so weak that he will probably sleep 
until night. Let us take advantage of this 





162 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


opportunity. We shall breakfast together, 
and then go for a long walk in the mount¬ 
ains.” 

“Very well, I agree. But come at once; I 
am dying of hunger,” she retorted gaily. 

An hour later, they started out together, 
under the brightness of a sunlit sky. Mme. 
de Vr£de was no longer the same woman. 
Her companion saw in her a new creature, 
whom he did not yet know. During the first 
days, she had mistrusted him ; how could she 
have been outspoken and confidential ? 
Then, when this distrust had melted away, 
Catherine had found herself a mother, and 
nothing but a mother. 

She spoke in a sweet voice, admiring the 
scenery with the naive enthusiasm of a 
child. When his e3 r es met hers, he saw that 
they shone with an expression of infinite 
tenderness, and he contemplated her, charmed 
and thrilled. As the}^ reached the summit of 
the hillock, Catherine stopped, dazzled by the 
sight that met her eyes. 

“How beautiful!” she murmured. 

Before them arose the mountains of Savoie, 
with their rugged indentations outlined 
against the sky; and below, the lake of 
Bourget, with its green and blue waters. 




163 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


They seated themselves on a stone bench, 
protected from the ardent rays of the sun by 
the tall trees, whose leaves were already 
tinged by autumn. 

“Indeed, I despaired too soon,” she re¬ 
sumed in her musical voice. “ I am now full 
of hope. Thanks to you, who have con¬ 
soled and comforted me. I believe that 
nothing will now delay Jacques’ convales¬ 
cence. In a few weeks he will terminate his 
treatment here, and I shall take him home, 
cured and full of strength. And you, my 
friend, what will you do ? ” 

“Why—what I have done until now,” he 
replied. “Are you not alone? Did you not 
say that I was your only friend ? When 
you leave Aix, I shall leave also. You will, 
I trust, permit me to see you in Paris ? ” 
There was a short silence. Catherine was 
gazing before her, motionless, as if pursu¬ 
ing a fugitive thought into space. At last, 
slowly turning toward Maurice, she sad: 

“Did you not tell me the other day that 
you had abandoned Paris to live in the 
country? ” 

“Yes.” 

“Well, then, I want you to leave Aix-en- 
Savoie. It will be impossible for me to see 

you in Paris.” 

ii 





164 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


‘ ‘ Impossible! Why ? 1 ’ 

“ Because you love me, and because I love 
you! ’ ’ she said, her eyes still fixed on him. 

“ Catherine! ” he cried. 

Madame de Vr 6 de seemed transfigured. 

u I have sworn before God to be a faithful 
wife,’ ’ she said. “ I am not released from my 
oath because he Whose name I bear has 
proved faithless. I have the right to love 
you, because I am not the mistress of my 
heart. But having told you, my duty is to 
fly!” 

Maurice now understood. This loyal 
creature was afraid; afraid of herself, and of 
him. Too frank to hide her sentiments, but 
also too pure not to fear the peril. He 
buried his face in his hands. 

“You will suffer, Maurice,” she resumed. 
“I shall also! Let us not regret this suffer¬ 
ing; we owe it to what is. best in us. I 
might have kept back my confession;; |noth- 
ing obliged me to make it. But it would 
not have been worthy of me! I knew that 
the thought that an invisible link united us 
forever, would be sweet to you. And now 
let us go! I have your promise ? ” 

“Yes.” 

“ From this day, the life that we lead must 
cease.” 




HER SISTER’S RIVAL 


165 


“ Oh! only from to-morrow! I beseech you, 
give me until to-morrow ! ” he pleaded. 

“Yes, I consent. It may be so long before 
we meet again ! ” 

They were standing, clasping each other’s 
hands. He, trembling with emotion; she, 
calm and smiling. 

“I love you,” she said, for the second 
time. “You have all that is best in me! 
My heart and my thoughts—I give them to 
you! ” 

On their way homeward, the}^ spoke on in¬ 
different topics; but their hearts were filled 
with a sweet and poignant emotion. She 
had revealed her secret, and found the man 
whom she regarded above all others, worthy 
of her. They would suffer! Well, so much 
the better. Suffering alone ennobles hu¬ 
manity, and Tourgu^neff had reason to cry: 
“ 0 , my beloved pain!” Delicate souls de¬ 
light in tasting the bitter joys of sacrifice. 
They know what trials await them; they 
know also that they possess the strength to 
bear and conquer them. 

When they reached the hotel, they sepa¬ 
rated with a single pressure of the hand. 
What more could they have said ? Cather¬ 
ine went to her room almost happy; Mau- 






166 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


rice belonged to her entirely. She had ad¬ 
mitted her love; and he had quietly sub¬ 
mitted to her will. One day more and he 
would go, never to see her again. He would 
live far away from her, notwithstanding the 
passion that consumed him ! 

As he reached the door of his small pallor, 
a waiter informed him that a lady awaited 
him. 

“ a lady ? ” he repeated, in amazement. 

“Yes, monsieur. She called early, and re¬ 
turned again ten minutes ago.” 

“Who in the deuce can it be?” thought 
Maurice. 

He opened the door and uttered a cry of 
stupefaction. Huberte was calmly seated in 
an arm-chair, smiling, head erect, imperti¬ 
nent and mocking. 








XVII. 

“ Well, yes, my dear, here I am. Do I dis¬ 
turb 3'ou ? ” she said coolly. 

He looked at her without answering. Why 
was she there? What hazard, or rather, 
what fatality brought her to this watering 
place, a few steps from Catherine? For the 
idea had not yet occurred to the young man, 
that any correlation could exist between the 
presence of the one and the in-coming of the 
other. He who believes he knows women 
best, is doomed to never understand them. 
And how can we fathom those complicated 
and complex creatures, who are truly 
sincere in their flights of passion only? 

Seeing his surprise and amazement, Hu- 
berte burst into a laugh ; that wicked laugh 
that annoys, and jars upon the nerves. 

“My presence here astonishes you?” she 


168 


HER SISTERS RIVAL 


said. “ Oh! I understand it very well! You 
are asking yourself what I can be doing 
here? Well, I will explain. As you already 
know, my husband was very ill; and believ¬ 
ing himself lost, the poor man wanted to see 
me once more. Bah! it was only a false 
alarm. Those professing Catholics are all 
alike! On his death-bed, he experienced the 
need of a reconciliation with me; but as soon 
as the danger passed away, he ordered me 
back into my exile. When I reached Les 
Audliettes, I learned that you had been there 
to see me. How charming! It was really 
very amiable on your part. I had imagined 
so many things ! Oh! things that I will not 
tell you, because they would only make you 
shrug your shoulders.” 

Maurice had gradually recovered his com¬ 
posure. By instinct, he knew there would be 
a struggle. He now examined Hubertewith 
more calmness. She was standing before 
him, pretty and captivating as ever, with a 
diabolical light in her black eyes, and a sar¬ 
casm on her lips; ironical and haughty, as 
if being mistress of the situation, she wanted 
her former lover to suffer for the humilia¬ 
tions she had endured. 

“ All this does not explain 3'our presence in 
Aix-en-Savoie,” observed Maurice, endeavor¬ 
ing to appear indifferent. 




HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


169 


“ True—but don’t be in such a hurry ! I’ll 
tell you all in good time,” she said with an 
insolent laugh, hoping to draw him out of 
his phlegmatic attitude. 

“ I am not in a hurry, and I am not curious,” 
he replied coldly. “ I did choose this water¬ 
ing place to spend a few weeks, out of pure 
caprice. You have had the same whim, I sup¬ 
pose? You find me delighted.” 

‘Delighted? Really? But I will resume 
my little story. Knowing that you had come 
to Les Audliettes, I naturally inferred from 
such a step that I was not indifferent to 
you. That’s silly, is it not ? I immediately 
sent Julia to Charmoises to have a little con¬ 
versation with Constant. They understand 
each other very well. Have you remarked that 
servants nearly always follow theirmasters 
propensities? Only, sometimes theirmasters 
quarrel, while they remain good friends. I 
thus learned that you were here. Then, fool 
that I was, I took the first train to join you 
here. And I arrived last week.” 

“ Last week! ” he cried, aghast. 

“ Exactly. Oh! the charming surprisethat 
awaited me! I find you intimate with whom? 
With my sister! My nephew is taken ill ? 
You immediately assume the role of nurse! 



170 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


You remain with Jacques to tell him baby 
stories. It is so touching, that it actually 
brings tears into my eyes! ” 

She arose, coming nearer to Maurice, and 
added cynically: 

“How long have you been my sister Cath¬ 
erine’s lover? ” 

“You lie! ” he cried angrily, losing all self- 
control. 

“Oh! oh!’’ 

“ And you lie knowingly. You know that 
your sister is not my mistress ! ” 

“ Then, my dear, you are a down-right im¬ 
becile ! ” 

He made such a violent gesture that she 
shrank back; but she was not disconcerted, 
however. 

“Would you like to strike me?’’she re¬ 
torted, with a forced laugh. “But let us 
sit down again and resume the conversation 
where we left off.” 

Maurice was deeply annoyed, more vexed 
with himself, and vaguely uneasy. This dan¬ 
gerous woman had discovered his secret. 
What would she do ? He would have 
silenced her or driven her away. But he did 
not dare! 

“You little suspected that I was following 




HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


171 


you a distance, in all your walks,” she con¬ 
tinued in the same tone. “ That good Cath¬ 
erine ! She would have been less at her ease 
had she known that I was behind her, spy¬ 
ing, watching, searching! ” 

She paused for a moment, then added in a 
low voice, as if speaking to herself: 

“ I shall never forget what I suffered. The 
only man I ever loved, stolen from me by my 
sister! I saw them there, together, and I 
could do nothing, nothing! ” 

Then, with the extraordinary mobility of 
her nervous nature, she turned to him and 
exclaimed passionately: 

“Then you love me no longer? Is every¬ 
thing forgotten, is it all over ? And yet, I was 
not a coquette with you ! ” 

Huberte was not threatening now; she 
implored: 

“I beseech you, have pity on me. If you 
knew how unhappy I am! You told me you 
did not love Catherine. Prove it! ” 

And she came nearer to him, fawning, en¬ 
treating. In vain did he try to keep her 
away. She grasped his hands and cried 
vehemently: 

“I love you! What crime can you lay at 
my door? To have had lovers! Did I 



172 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


not forgive you the mistresses you have 
had! And I shall be more than your mis¬ 
tress—I will be your slave! I cannot live 
without you. You belong to me! You have 
given me joys that I never knew of—and I 
love you—oh! I love you!” 

After this first burst of uncontrollable pas¬ 
sion, her voice softened, and finally seemed 
to die away. 

A man would not be a man, if he had not 
moments of physical inferiority in which the 
senses dominate. Maurice was contem¬ 
plating Huberte. How beautiful, how en¬ 
ticing, and how exciting, she appeared, with 
her appealing eyes and warm lips, offering 
herself to him! To him, who adored Cather¬ 
ine, in the flesh the living image of this one. 
Coveting the one who refused herself, he 
could deceive his desires with the other who 
gave herself so unreservedly. But, as in a 
sudden vision, he saw the woman he cher¬ 
ished—that noble Catherine, so high and so 
pure that human vileness could not reach her. 

“You love me ? ” he replied, in steady tones. 
“ I do not love you! What is dead is dead! 
It is no more in your power, than it is in 
mine, to recall those vanished days! ” 

She started as if she had received a blow. 




HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


173 


“Why can we not remain .friends?” he > 
continued. “ Is it necessary that we should 
hate because we no longer adore each other ? ’ ’ 
“I! your friend? You are mad!” she 
said, bitterly, again becoming haughty and 
imperious. ‘‘ What a fool I was to humiliate 
myself before you! I should have known 
better. You could not love me, since you 
love Catherine! That woman—oh! how I 
hate her! And do you think that I shall not 
avenge myself? Indeed, I cannot picture the 
whole thing without a laugh! The infallible 
Catherine, with a lover! It is to be hoped 
that she will drop her saintly airs for the 
future, and that she will not inflict her 
virtuous homelies on me! Who knows 
even if you are really the first? All those 
hypocrites are the same! One would ab¬ 
solve them without confession-” 

“Silence!” cried Maurice, clasping his 
nervous fingers around her wrist. 

“Maurice!-” 

“Silence, Isay!” 

“ Oh! how you must love her! ” 

“Yes, I love her!” he exclaimed, raising 
his head proudly. “ I love her for her purity, 
for her nobility—for all that you have not! I 
can more easily forgive you for what you did 



174 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


over there at Dijon, than for your resem¬ 
blance to her! You appear like her carica¬ 
ture—like her image, vilified and degraded! 
You believe that your beauty, your charms, 
your wit, attracted me? No! it was her 
whom I was searching in you! Though I 
had but a glimpse of her, she possessed my 
heart entirely from the very first minute. 
And when you saw me so tender, so devoted, 
so loving, I was vainly trying to deceive my¬ 
self! I was endeavoring to find her lips on 
your lips, her eyes in your eyes ! ” 

She did not say a word ; she did not make 
a gesture. She was gazing at Maurice in a 
tragic immobility. There was something 
wild in her gaze. Could he have guessed the 
violent thoughts that rushed through her 
brain, he might have been truly frightened. 
After a few moments, she shrugged her 
shoulders disdainfully, and walked out with¬ 
out turning her head. 

She had scarceW disappeared when Mau¬ 
rice realized his imprudence. In a burst of 
passion he had revealed his love. What 
would this violent, passionate and jealous 
creature do? Huberte had threatened him 
with her vengeance. The vengeance of such 
a woman could be but frightful and terrible! 








XVIII. 

He had but little leisure to reflect, however, 
Huberte had scarcely left him when he heard 
a knock at the door. 

“Come in,” he said, annoyed at the in¬ 
trusion. 

It was the Swiss maid, who begged M. de 
Fonde to come -to her mistress’ apartments at 
once. Jacques had suddenly become worse. 
The improvement noticed by the physician 
had been of short duration. The rheumatism 
had increased in intensity in a few hours. The 
boy experienced much difficulty in breathing, 
and sharp pains in the region of the heart. 
The delirium had returned, and the child rec¬ 
ognized no one. Until now, the treatment 
had not varied : salicylic acid to combat the 
rheumatism, sulphate of quinine to lessen the 
fever and strengthen the patient. 


176 


IIER SISTER'S RIVAL 


Maurice reached Catherine’s room as the 
physician was leaving it. At the first glance 
the young man understood all. Mme. de 
Vr£de stood at the bedside, pale and anxious. 

“Look at him ! ” she said, as Maurice ap¬ 
proached. 

The poor child’s head was thrown back on 
the pillow, his face was livid, his breathing 
short and painful, and he was muttering in¬ 
coherent words. His haggard eyes remained 
motionless, as Maurice bent over him with a 
sinking heart. In a few words Catherine 
explained all. This attack had come when 
she felt most reassured; she had immediately 
sent for the doctor, and he had ordered a 
large blister to be placed on his breast, a 
little to the left. 

“ The doctor is uneasy,’’ she added, briefly, 
“but I will save my child. Impossible that 
he should die, or there is ho God !” 

“Die? Oh! no.’’ 

And Maurice tried to calm the distressed 
mother. He could not, however misunder¬ 
stand the alarming symptoms. The weak 
pulse, the difficult breathing, testified to the 
ravages of the disease in this frail little 
body. And yet, Catherine did not realize 
the cruel truth. She was one of those moth- 



HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


177 


ers who, though tortured by fear, still keep 
a secret hope within their hearts. “ 0 , that 
my child may not die!” she said, and thought 
within herself: “No, it is not possible!” 

The fatal denouement was not long in com¬ 
ing. About six o’clock, Jacques had a syn¬ 
cope; then he opened his eyes for the last 
time, and, falling back on the pillow, he 
heaved a light sigh. 

Over! it was all over! Catherine would 
not believe it. She strained the child’s body 
in her arms, covering it with kisses and 
tears. She called on him wildly, as if he 
were still a living creature. Then the remem¬ 
brance of the reality would again penetrate 
into this broken heart. “Oh! a mother’s 
tears!’’ says the poet. 

Of what use is it attempting to console the 
inconsolable ? Maurice remained at her side, 
hesitating, distressed; he scorned the com¬ 
monplace phrases, which irritate rather than 
appease sorrow. He knew the heart of this 
woman. Time alone could lull her intoler¬ 
able pain; but it would never bring forget¬ 
fulness. He loved her so well that he felt all 
the pain she endured; and his presence was 
for Catherine a comfort, and an invaluable 
help. 



178 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


Death is surrounded by a hundred hideous 
formalities, which redouble its horrors. 
Catherine wished to bring the child’s body 
to Paris; it was, therefore, necessary to so¬ 
licit authorizations, to take many steps, and 
to run from one official to the other. What 
would she have done alone, without a friend 
to assist her in her distress ? She had tele¬ 
graphed to M. de Vr£de, but he had no de¬ 
sire to leave his pleasures. He sent a few 
words in reply, in which he spoke of “his 
profound grief.” There are many husbands 
like M. de Vr£de, but few such fathers. Duty 
commanded him to take the first train and 
join his wife. Had she not the greatest need 
of his assistance ? But no; he allowed her to 
undertake that terrible journey alone. 

Maurice understood her grief as a mother, 
and her humiliation as a wife. His love be¬ 
came still more tender, almost brotherly. He 
devoted himself entirely to her, sparing her 
all the necessary sad details. 

They who transport their cherished dead 
from one end of France to the other, know 
the agony of those slow, never-to-be-forgot- 
gotten hours. The railway companies do 
not accept coffins on their fast trains, as if 
such journeys were not already long enough. 





HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


179 


Catherine did not even have the consolation 
of keeping before her eyes the casket contain¬ 
ing the remains of her child. She only knew 
him to be there, in a baggage van, under a 
double envelope *of lead and wood. Twice 
during that terrible night she seized Mau¬ 
rice’s hands, crying, in her distress: 

•‘If you were not with me I should go 
mad!” 

They arrived in Paris on a rainy morning, 
and more formalities had to be gone through, 
which were again spared her by Maurice. 

All these proofs of affection touched her 
deeply. In a suffering woman, the heart is 
most impressible; as her nerves are so fear¬ 
fully unstrung, she feels more intensely the 
pains and joys. 

Thus was the gratitude Catherine felt to¬ 
ward Maurice, mingled with a great deal of 
tenderness. Being now condemned to months 
of retirement, almost buried in solitude, 
Catherine had no distractions but this 
unique friend. 

How she admired his delicacy! Each day 
he brought her the echoes of Paris, from 
which she was, at the same time, so far and so 
near. Not once did he allude to his love. 
Faithful to his promise, he worshiped her in 
12 



180 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


silence; one word about his passion would 
have seemed to him like a profanation of his 
idol. She read this love in his eyes ; she saw it 
in his attentions. A stranger might have 
heard their conversation without suspecting 
anything. The most chaste of young girls 
could have witnessed the meetings of this 
man and woman, who loved each other so 
passionately, without guessing that a bond 
united their hearts. 

Nevertheless, Catherine’s affection grew 
stronger day by day. Little by little, Mau¬ 
rice was replacing in her heart the cherished 
child, who had flown away. Her friend’s 
presence was not only a joy, but a need. 
Maurice usually came at four o’clock in the 
afternoon, and remained with her until 
dinner time. Sometimes she would say to 
him: 

“You see, I am alone as usual. My hus¬ 
band will not return. Dine with me, this 
evening.’’ 

Maurice accepted these invitations with 
delight; his daily visits were his only recrea¬ 
tion. The world was ignorant of them, as 
Catherine was living almost isolated. But 
it was impossible that M. de Vr£de should 
also be unaware of them. What could he 




HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


181 


think? Was he complaisant or blind? M. 
de Fonde allowed himself to be guided by 
Catherine. Did she not possess superior 
wisdom? If she permitted these frequent 
visits, it must be that no one had the right 
to raise a voice against them. 

Weeks glided by, weeks of intense bliss ; 
and for the first time in his life Maurice felt 
perfectly happy. As for Catherine, what 
would have become of her, if the young man 
had not been there to speak of Jacques? She 
spoke of her beloved child every day. She 
had preserved photographs of him at three 
different ages, and also his favorite toj^s. 

“Do you recognize these? ” she asked him 
one evening. “You sent them to him at 
Aix.” 

The mother’s eyes filled with tears, and he 
did not chide her. He would rather have 
added: “Weep, it will do you good.” The 
child who was no more, remained present 
between them, like a sacrecl link and a sweet 
souvenir. They both acknowledged that the 
purest and best of their love came from this 
child. Catherine had become interested in 
Maurice in the first days, because he was 
kind to Jacques; and Maurice to please 
Catherine had humored and petted the pretty 




182 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


boy. The human heart is so small that it 
cannot contain many affections. It mingles 
them, as if to confound them, and makes 
but one love out of all it encloses! 

Months passed away, and M. deFondehad 
not yet been introduced to M. de Vr£de. It 
even seemed as if Catherine did not wish 
them to meet. She seldom, or never, spoke of 
her husband. Maurice now always returned 
about ten o’clock in the evening, when he did 
not dine with her. He sometimes reflected 
on the oddity of the situation, and feared 
for Madame de Vr£de. It was improbable 
that the husband should still be in ignorance 
of what was taking place, and if he did 
know, what could his thoughts be? 

About the middle of November, M. de 
Fonde had some conversation with Robert 
Traville. Notwithstanding his apparent 
thoughtlessness, the elegant clubman was 
very sensible. The two friends had seen but 
little of each other since Maurice’s return to 
Paris. After a few bantering words on the 
famous exile into the country which had so 
promptly terminated, Robert had dropped 
the subject. With his Parisian tact, he at 
once understood that his friend’s life con¬ 
cealed a secret, but he did not try to provoke 




HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


183 


a confidence which was withheld. However, 
one day he considered it wise to give Maurice 
a few words of advice. 

“My dear Maurice,” he said, “I ask you 
nothing and don’t wish to know anything. 
Only, I hope you do not doubt the very sin¬ 
cere affection I have for you.” 

“ No, indeed ! ” 

“ Then, will you accept my advice ? ” 

“I do not understand you,” replied Mau¬ 
rice, coldfy. 

“Oh! well, if you become stiff at once! 
However, I have sworn to talk, and I will 
talk. We have just reached Boulevard Hauss- 
man; come home with me, that will be 
better.” 

Robert occupied a ground-floor, full of 
sunshine, in the middle of the Avenue Per- 
cier, where the two friends were soon com¬ 
fortably seated with their feet on the fender. 

“ Do you know Monsieur de Vr£de? ” asked 
Traville, phlegmatically. 

Maurice jumped to his feet. 

“There! don’t get on your dignity!” re¬ 
joined Robert. “I am not going to drag 
your secrets from you. My own are trouble¬ 
some enough, without encumbering myself 
with those of others! I simply ask you if 




184 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


you know Cyrille Am6d6e de Vr£de, sur- 
named Sac-de-Noix (Bag of Walnuts) by 
the jesting world. No, you do not know 
him ? I even wager that you never saw him? 
Sac-dc-Noix, my dear fellow, is a tall, strong 
and very florid man. Now, each human 
creature has some characteristic. His is, to 
possess teeth, so flat and so big, that they 
make a peculiar noise when he talks; some¬ 
thing like the crackling of nuts, when rub¬ 
bed against each other! Do you understand 
the nickname? He is a treacherous man. I 
have known three women whom he had 
known intimately. And the three have given 
me the same advice: “ Beware of him ! ” 

Maurice had now recovered his self-pos¬ 
session. He had full confidence in Robert’s 
friendship; but his secret was also Cather¬ 
ine’s secret. 

“Thanks, my friend,” he replied, smiling. 
“Believe me, I am very grateful to you for 
your kind advice.” 

“Please notice that I make no question,” 
rejoined Robert. “But I resume the L sub- 
ject. As I just said, you must beware of 
Sac-de-Noix ! He is married, and has an ex¬ 
quisite wife, it seems. I need not say that 
he deceives her. Note this: libertine hus- 



HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


185 


bands are always jealous husbands. If I 
were in love with Madame deVr^de, I should 
keep an eye— By the way, you have not yet 
complimented me on this Detaille I bought 
the other day.” 

Maurice understood. Traville’s words 
were very clear. Evidently, people were be¬ 
ginning to talk. The young man knew by 
experience that nowhere is there more talk, 
more gossip, than inside clubs. There are so 
many idlers there, and among them so many 
idiots! He did not thank his friend a second 
time; that would have been a half avowal. 
But when they separated he pressed Tra¬ 
ville’s hand warmly. Robert smiled; too 
clever to not understand, and too generous 
to show that he did understand. 




XIX. 

The winter was severe; and at the be¬ 
ginning of January, Maurice caught a cold 
that confined him to his room. At first, he 
refused to obey the physician's orders. What! 
to remain at home! Why, it was to deprive 
himself of his greatest joy! Not to see 
Catherine! To mis? those daily visits, which 
had become the only object of his existence! 
Madame de Vr£de was forced to interpose. 

‘‘You committed a great imprudence the 
other day,” she wrote to him. “To go out 
in the state you are in, is to risk your life. I 
forbid you to come to me. I will goto you.” 

Ah! the fine resolutions of older days! 
No doubt the death of poor little Jacques had 
changed everything; Catherine being entirely 
devoted to her mourning was no longer a 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


187 


woman of the world. Would they ever ex¬ 
change one word of love in their long con¬ 
versations? A man’s love is never abso¬ 
lutely chaste. In spite of himself, he thinks 
that the hour will come when the adored 
woman will no longer be capable of resisting 
the passion she inspires. Maurice waited, 
knowing well that Catherine would not re¬ 
fuse forever to listen to his words of love. 
She despised falsehood. She kept true to her 
marital vows in spite of all. But she loved. 
And when we love how weak we are! 

And now she was coming to his home! 
There exist strange subtilities in the hearts 
of the most loyal of men. Who does not 
compromise with one’s conscience? Mme. 
de Vr£de would not listen to his love in her 
own home, because it was in her husband’s 
house. But in his own home? The young 
woman was for the first time venturing on a 
visit he would not have dared solicit. In his 
great delight, he forgot Robert Traville’s 
prudent advice. Besides, how could he fear 
a man he did not know? Since his return, 
he had lived absolutely and solely for his 
love. Had he not thus neglected his former 
friends and his club, he might have gathered 
some very precious information. 




188 


IIER SISTER'S RIVAL 


Cyrille-Amedee de Vr£de, as Traville jest¬ 
ingly called him, would have made an excel¬ 
lent cuirassier. He loved big horses, big din¬ 
ners and big women; but, being of small in¬ 
telligence, he bo as ted of having read nothing. 
In literature, he preferred farce; in music, 
operettas; in painting, spicy subjects. Phys¬ 
ically, he was tall and strong, with square 
shoulders and a broad chest. His sparse 
gray hair barely covered an almost solid 
cranium, a sure indication of stubbornness. 
He wore a thick, bristling moustache, which 
almost concealed his lips. His clean shaven 
cheeks and chin were of that purple hue 
which denotes an apoplectic nature. His char¬ 
acter could be guessed from his eyes only. 
They were gray, of a misty shade, in which 
could be read shrewdness and stupidity. He 
was neither good nor wicked; merely devoid 
of moral sense, and about as able of deci¬ 
phering hieroglyphics as of understanding a 
wife like his. Being quite open-handed, he 
spent his louis freely on the women that 
pleased him. They all seemed good enough 
for him, provided they were easy-going and 
not given to phrases. The main feature of 
his character, however, was his terror of 
public opinion. This brave man would not 



HER SISTER’S RIVAL 


18<J 


have quailed in a duel, but he trembled in 
reading the venomous paragraphs of fash¬ 
ionable papers. In short, he was one of those 
beings who never listen to their conscience— 
if they have one—but allow themselves to 
be guided by the fear of ridicule. 

Had Maurice known this personage, he 
would have taken many precautions which he 
scorned. But even if he had thought of tak¬ 
ing them, the idea of Catherine—of Cather¬ 
ine in his own home—absolutely intoxicated 
him. As the yoiing man was condemned by 
the physicians to keep strictly to his rooms, 
he sent his valet, early in the morning, to pil¬ 
lage a florist’s shop. How could he render 
his modest apartment worthy of his idol? 

Since his return to Paris, Maurice inhabited 
rooms in the Rue de la Baume, an aristo¬ 
cratic street, where pedestrians are few. He 
began to expect her, impatiently, at noon. 
When would she come ? And when she ap¬ 
peared, exquisitely beautiful in her black 
dress, he fell on his knees before her. 

“ How good you are!” he cried, kissing her 
hands. 

“To begin with, you must behave yourself, ’ ’ 
she replied, smiling. “ I am here as a sister of 
charity.” 




190 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


A woman of the world, who ventures to 
visit a young man alone, knows perfectly 
well to what she exposed herself. But the 
proud soul of Catherine cared not for what 
people might say; her conscience was her 
only judge. It mattered not to her if the 
whole universe saw her enter Maurice’s 
home; but, on the other hand, she would 
have died rather than be guilty of a weak¬ 
ness. 

“You see I have full confidence in your 
loyalty,” she continued. “But in whom 
would I believe, if not in you ? How few men 
would have conducted themselves as nobly 
as you have done.” 

“ Women do not usually care for that kind 
of nobleness,” he replied. 

“Do I resemble others?” she replied. 
“ But no more of this. You are suffering; we 
must nurse you.” 

It was a delicious afternoon. Ah! how 
Maurice wished he could often be ill! In a 
few days, however, he recovered, and the\ r 
again resumed their former habits. But 
nothing encourages one to imprudent actions 
like impunity. Catherine felt the danger of 
these daily visits in her own home; and she 
wished to render these visits less frequent, 



HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


191 


without, however, depriving herself of Mau¬ 
rice’s companionship. 

“Since I visited you in your rooms when 
you were ill,’’she said to him one day, “there 
is nothing to prevent me from doing so 
again.’’ 

“ What imprudence!’’ he cried. 

“You exaggerate. Imprudence? On ac¬ 
count of what?” 

“ On account of what the world may say.” 

“The world cares little for me. I am a 
poor woman in mourning, who sees no one, 
and of whom no one speaks.” 

‘ ‘ But your—your husband ? ’ ’ 

“Permit me to say that no one, not even 
you, must speak of the relations that exist 
between Monsieur de Vr£de and myself.” 
Then she added, with a bewitching smile: 
* 1 Does it make you so very unhappy to receive 
me?” 

He clasped his hanas m mock repentance. 

“Do not ask me for forgiveness,” she re¬ 
sumed. % “I appreciate your anxieties. But 
henceforth I shall visit you three times a 
week in the Rue de la Baume. On the other 
days I shall expect you here, as usual.” 

Catherine would have been much aston¬ 
ished had she been told that Maurice was 



192 HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


not happy. But the more he saw of this ex¬ 
quisite creature, the more he regretted that 
she could not belong to him. Ah! the fine 
promises we make in the hours of bliss ! We 
swear to the one we love to respect her, and 
—we do respect her. No word, no action, be¬ 
trays the thought of the lover who has so 
heroically condemned himself to silence. But 
what of the real thoughts, the thoughts inde¬ 
pendent of the will? For Maurice this tor¬ 
ture was doubled by the remembrance of 
Huberte. He knew this haughty and chaste 
Catherine, this woman who refused his kisses, 
without knowing her. He had merely to 
close his eyes to see her. 

Often, when she had left him in his own 
rooms, he revolved these thoughts in his 
mind. And sometimes he thought of the de¬ 
serted Huberte. What had become of her ? 
With a little shiver, he recalled the young wo¬ 
man’s menace. He knew her capable of carry¬ 
ing out her threats. He often even wondered 
at her apparent indifference. Constant, who 
was waiting patiently at Charmoises, had 
written that Madame Andr^zy had come to 
Les Audliettes, then gone away, and again 
returned. Notwithstanding this statement, 
Maurice’s fears calmed down little by little. 




HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


193 


First, because it is human nature to forget 
anxieties; then, because nothing appeared 
changed in Mme. de Yr^de’s domestic life. 
Her husband still continued to be but a hus¬ 
band in partibus. Unfaithful, naturally! 
Never at home! Even Robert Traville 
was silent on this delicate subject. Who 
could, then, have advised Maurice to be pru¬ 
dent? And, beside, what had he to fear? 
Catherine loved him ; and he loved this noble 
woman with all the ardor of his being. 

Old hunters have a very wise and philo¬ 
sophical proverb: “ In a boar hunt, the ani¬ 
mal always comes from the direction whence 
he is least expected.” But Maurice was too 
much a man of the world to bring down his 
adversary to the level of wild game. 







XX. 

It was a bitter cold day, and the pedestri¬ 
ans hurried along, in mortal fear of freezing. 
The Rue de la Baume was even more de¬ 
serted than usual, and Maurice impatiently 
awaited the well-known noise of the fiacre 
that brought Catherine to the daily rendez¬ 
vous. She appeared at the usual hour, but 
seemed strangely agitated. 

“It is curious,” she said, “but I feel ter¬ 
ribly nervous since morning, and that is so 
unusual for me.” 

Since his return to Paris, Maurice had 
taken a new valet. Not knowing the man 
well enough to trust him, he always dis¬ 
missed him half an hour before Mme. de 
Yr^de’s arrival. Catherine had scarcely en¬ 
tered when the door bell rang. 

“I pity the unfortunate person standing at 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


105 


your door in this weather,” she said, laugh¬ 
ing. 

The bell rang again. 

“ So much the worse for indiscreet people,” 
replied Maurice. 

A third and a fourth ring came in quick 
succession; not a timid ring, like that of a 
visitor who fears to be importunate; on the 
contrary, the bell vibrated almost furiously. 

“ In your place, I would go and see who it 
is,” observed Mme. de Vr£de 

“ Do you think I had better go ?” 

“ If it is a tradesman or a friend- you can 
say you are not alone.” 

Whoever he might be, the indiscreet person 
did not get discouraged, but continued to 
ring with stubborn vigor. 

“You are right,” said Maurice, “I will go 
and see who it is. 

He passed out into the hall and opened the 
door. 

“Sapristi! you were a long time coming! 
I am nearly frozen!” exclaimed the laughing 
voice of a woman. 

“ Clotilde!” 

“ My very self.” 

And as the young man remained motion¬ 
less, stupefied, unable to believe his senses, 

Clotilde carefully closed the door. 

*3 



HER SISTER'S RIVAL 




“You are astonished, eh? But come, we 
have no time to lose. You will understand 
by-and-bye. Madame de Vr4de is in your 
parlor?” 

“Nonsense!” he replied. 

“It is you who are talking nonsense, my 
good fellow!” retorted Mile. Francoise Clam- 
pin, whom her old lover believed had long 
ago become Mme. Brack. 

And, sure of herself, she walked straight 
into the room where Catherine was. The 
latter had risen, somewhat frightened by the 
sound of the voices, and vaguely anxious, as 
if she had a presentiment of an unknown 
danger. 

When she found herself in the presence of 
Mme. de Vr6de, Clotilde completely changed 
her manner, and became as respectful as if 
she were standing before a queen. 

“Pardon me, Madame,” she said. “I am 
not worthy to speak to a woman like you. 
But I came to save you.” 

“To save me!” 

“In a quarter of an hour, perhaps less, 
Monsieur de Vr6de will be here. Read this.’’ 

And before Maurice and Catherine had re¬ 
covered from their astonishment, the pretty 
Veronese handed to her ex-lover a sheet 



HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


197 


of note paper The letter was short, but 
very clear. 

“Do you want to know where your wife 
goes regularly three times a week? No. 22 
Rue de la Baume, at M. de Fonde's apart¬ 
ments. To-morrow , Wednesday, at three 
o'clock.” 

Whence came this precise denunciation ? It 
certainly came from a well-informed enemy. 
Maurice’s first thought was to ask Clotilde 
where she had obtained this dangerous paper; 
but before he had time to say a word, Clo¬ 
tilde turned to Mme. de Vr£de, saying: 

“ I hope you will excuse me now, Madame. 
Allow me to be your guide to the end of this 
incident.” 

“I will be guided by you, Madame, and I 
feel deeply grateful,” replied Catherine. 
“ Command, and I shall obey.” 

Clotilde looked curiously around the room. 

“Is that your bed-room over there?” she 
asked Maurice. 

“Yes,” he replied. 

“ And next to the bed-room ?” 

“ The dressing-room.” 

“Very well. Come, Madame.” 

And motioning Catherine to follow, she 
went straight to the dressing-room, which 



198 


IIER SISTERS RIVAL 


was separated from the bed-room by a 
closet. 

“ Go in there, Madame,” she said. “ Lock 
the door from the inside, and do not open 
unless M. de Fonde or myself call.” 

All this had not lasted more than five min¬ 
utes. Catherine had immediately realized 
the danger. When Clotilde and Maurice 
were once more alone in the parlor, the young 
woman burst into a laugh. 

“And to think that you don’t understand 
yet!” she exclaimed. 

“Upon my word, I do not.” 

“She is quicker than you; but it is true she 
is a woman. Learn, my little darling ”—she 
retained the pet name—“that M. de Vr6de 
has been my lover these last six months.” 

“What! six months?” 

“Yes.” 

“ And your husband ?” 

“What husband?” she asked, naively. 
Then a thought traversed her light brain, 
and she again burst into a merry laugh. 

“Ah! Doctor Brack?” she rejoined. “I had 
forgotten. Then, don’t you know about it ? 
Oh! we published the bans, but twelve hours 
before going to the mayor’s office, I fell in 
love with a clown. So I dropped everything 



HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


199 


there and then. The clown left me for a cir¬ 
cus rider, and I took M. de Yr^dein his place.” 

These little confidences were interrupted by 
the sound of voices; a growing tumult as¬ 
cending the stairway. 

“ There is the husband, and he is accompa¬ 
nied by a commissaire de police,” said Clo- 
tilde. “ What a fuss ! Now, my little darling, 
keep cool, and I will answer for everything.” 

“ But I don’t understand your plan,” said 
Maurice. 

‘‘So much the better! You will have the 
surprise of the denouement. There—listen— 
they are knocking at the outside door—” 

“ Open!—in the name of the law!” called a 
gruff voice from without. 

“ How stupid those husbands are!” laughed 
Clotilde. “ Let them pose a few minutes at 
the door. I will shut myself up in your bed¬ 
room—not because I am afraid, however. 
Ta-ta, my little darling!” 

And she disappeared with a gay laugh. 
Maurice began to understand her ingenious 
plan. Really, she was a charming girl, to 
thus come to the rescue of the persecuted! 
However, he must decide on what he should 
do, for the gruff voice was calling on him for 
the third time “to open the door, in the 



200 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


name of the law!” Maurice assumed a care¬ 
less air and obeyed. 

M. de Vr£de precipitated himself into the 
apartment, followed by the magistrate, who 
wore a tri-color scarf around his waist. The 
outraged husband was livid with fury. 

“ My wife—my wife is here!” he cried. 

“Is she indeed? Monsieur, you are either 
drunk or mad,” declared Maurice, insolently. 

The police officer, who belonged to a race 
of peaceable and prudent people, thought it 
time to interpose. 

“I beg of you, Messieurs, I beg. Do not 
forget that you are gentlemen! 

“Pray explain the cause of this intrusion, 
Monsieur le Commissaire ,” said Maurice, 
turning to him, inquiringly. 

“ Monsieur has requested my services, that 
I may legally testify to the presence of his 
wife in your apartment,” replied the officer. 

“How absurd !” declared Maurice, haugh¬ 
tily. 

At this instant, the bed-room door opened, 
and Clotilde Veronese appeared, in a coquet- 
ish dishabille. In a simple skirt, without 
bodice, her red hair loose on her half-bare 
shoulders, the young woman was ravish- 
ingly pretty. 




HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


201 


“Ah! what is all this talk?” she asked, 
with an air of astonishment. Then, turning 
to M. de Vr£de she exclaimed: 

“What! you, Am£d£e! What are you do¬ 
ing in Maurice’s house, my little darling?” 

The commissaire was evidently puzzled. 
He, however, bowed politeH to the new 
comer. 

“You are, then, Madame de Vrede?” he 
asked. 

Clotilde burst into a loud laugh. 

“I Madame de Vr6de? I shall die laugh¬ 
ing! I am Francoise Clampin, alias Clotilde 
Veronese—monsieur’s mistress!” 

This burlesque scene could only terminate 
b}' the retreat of the magistrate, much dis¬ 
gusted at thv ridiculous role he had unwit¬ 
tingly played. Ordered to follow the jealous 
husband, who requested his services, as 
law provides, he had never expected to find 
Clotilde Veronese mixed up in the affair. As 
for M. de Vr£de, his fury was more comical 
than terrifying. 

“ Clotilde!—Clotilde!—you here!” he stam¬ 
mered, choking with rage. 

The magistrate murmured a few words of 
apology and retired, courteously escorted to 
the door by Maurice, who was very happy to 




202 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


see him depart, while Clotilde smiled gaily to 
her Am£d6e, and added, sarcastically: 

“ You thought your wife was here, did you, 
my little darling? And instead of the lead¬ 
ing actress you find the substitute! Don’t 
you know that Maurice is a—an old flame of 
mine?” 






































































■ 

























' 












XXI. 

A man is strong when he does not feel that 
he is ridiculous. Sac-de-Noix possessed that 
strength. Any one else would have found 
himself grotesque between that pretty girl 
and this Parisian, who, notwithstanding his 
courtesy, was evidently making fun of him. 
Am£d6e, however, affected a conquering 
mien, twisting his heavy moustache in a de¬ 
fiant manner. But now it was time to end 
the scene. 

“ Pet them settle it between themselves, 
thought Clotilde, as she made a mocking bow, 
and retired into the bed-room. 

M. de Vr6de’s silence immediately became 
loquacity. 

“ And you believe that matters will stop 
there, Monsieur?” he thundered. 

“I believe nothing at all.’’replied Maurice, 


204 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


quietly. “ But as you are in my house, allow 
me to do the honors,” and he pointed to a 
chair. 

“You were saying, Monsieur?” he asked, 
with assumed seriousness, when they were 
seated. 

Sac-de-Noix whistled softly, to conceal his 
discomfiture in finding himself in this equiv¬ 
ocal situation. 

“ I was saying—Ah ! the deuce! I was say¬ 
ing that—that you must give me satisfac¬ 
tion,” he stammered. 

“ Have I, then, insulted you ?” said Maurice. 

“ Monsieur!” 

“ Monsieur?” 

The two adversaries still maintained their 
respective positions; M. de Vr<§de exasper¬ 
ated and violent; Maurice ironical and cool. 

‘ ‘Then you pretend that I have insulted you? 
I do not see it very clearly. Try to be logical. 
You invade my private domicile; you enter 
it by force, accompanied by a representative 
of the law; you pretend that your wife and 
myself are engaged—in criminal conversa¬ 
tion, to employ the elegant euphemism of 
lawyers! And when you become convinced 
that Madame de Vr<§de has been calumni¬ 
ated—” 




HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


205 


“It is not a question of Madame deVr^de,” 
growled Am6dee, “but of—” 

“ Of Mile. Clotilde Veronese ? In that case 
I understand you still less. You are only my 
successor. I knew her before you met her.” 

“Then you refuse to fight, Monsieur?” 
roared Am£d6e, in a paroxism of rage. 

“ I ? Not at all! I am merely trying to find 
out why we are going to fight.” 

“Because I have found my—my mistress 
with you! My seconds will wait on you this 
evening.” 

“Your seconds? Very well. I shall expect 
them.” 

Clotilde, who was now dressed, entered at 
this moment, and heard these last words. 

“Indeed,you will do nothing of the kind,” 
she declared, coming quickly toward Mau¬ 
rice. “ You hear, my little darling. I forbid 
you to fight with that big fellow!” 

And turning to M. de Vr6de, who was 
stamping his feet in a fury, she added: 

“As for you, my dear, the matter stands 
thus. It is a matter of indifference to me 
whether Maurice and you have a duel or not. 
He is the best fencer. Only, if there is a 
meeting, I drop you.” 

“Clotilde!” 



HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


2(H> 


“ A debutante would say ‘ kss! kss !’ to you 
both, because a duel gives lots of free adver¬ 
tising. But my position is too well assured 
now. It would only compromise me.” 

“Ha! ha! Compromise!’’laughedMaurice. 

“Certainly, my little darling. You may 
laugh, but it is true. At my age, I must pass 
for a serious woman—as I am. No scandal 
around my name; you hear, Am£d£e. So you 
may choose. If you send your seconds to M. 
de Fonde, it will settle you, as far as I am 
concerned!” 

And as Amed^e still appeared undecided, 
she added, tauntingly : 

‘ Beside, why this duel ? Because I have 
deceived you ? I assure you, it is not the first 
time!” 

Then, shrugging her shoulders, she extended 
her hand to Maurice, saying: 

“Good bye, my little darling; I must run 
away. Come and see me.” 

“ Certainly.” 

“As to you, Am6dee—” 

“ I will accompany you!” 

“ Oh, no ! I am going alone. Don’t forget 
my ultimatum.” 

And with a coquettish and graceful nod, 
she disappeared, escorted by Maurice. Once 




HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


207 


alone in the hall, he seized his pretty friend 
by the waist, and kissed her affectionately. 

“ You are exquisite, little one,” he said. 

“Oh! no. I am only fair and just. I am 
always amiable with those who are amiable 
to me, but I am a terror to others.” Then, 
bursting into a merry laugh, she added : “I 
would give a great deal to see you two tete- 
a-tete when you go back in the parlor.” 

In fact, the situation was rather ludicrous. 
M.deVr^de’sface expressed the most contra¬ 
dictory thoughts. What would he decide? 
And how could he make his love agree with 
his vanity ? Maurice almost pitied him for 
his ridiculous plight. 

“May I ask what you have decided upon 
doing, Monsieur?” asked Maurice, as he re¬ 
sumed his seat. 

“She is mad,” exclaimed M. de Vr£de, 
throwing up his arms helplessly. u What do 
you think of it ?” 

As M. de Fonde could not repress a smile, 
he rejoined: 

“Perhaps you can explain her character, 
since, as you admit, you knew her long be¬ 
fore I did. In fact, Monsieur, I have no alter¬ 
native; I must obey her. I withdraw, re¬ 
gretting very much the fuss I have made. 
Pray excuse me.” 



208 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


“You need not apologize, Monsieur,” said 
Catherine, gravely, as she suddenly appeared 
between the silk portieres. 

This unexpected apparition completely be¬ 
wildered M. de Vr£de. His wife after his 
mistress! Both together! And together in 
M. de Fonde’s apartments! This accursed 
rival had, then, stolen them both! 

“ Your informant did not deceive you,” she 
resumed. “You might, however, have re¬ 
mained in ignorance of my presence in this 
house, if I had willed it; I had but to wait 
until you had gone. But I have always de¬ 
tested falsehood, and I would not, even now, 
profit by it. Moreover, why should I hide? 
I am here because I love you passionately, 
Maurice, I say it before you, and before the 
man whose name I bear, because I am ready 
to exchange that name for yours.” 

Am£de£’s brain was ready to burst. All 
these events succeeding each other in such 
unexpected fashion seemed like magic. The 
unfortunate man could not understand it. 
He had expected to find Catherine with 
Maurice, and he had found him with Clotilde! 
And the latter had laughed at him, unscrupu¬ 
lously, and, after jeering at him so out¬ 
rageously, had gone, darting a last imperti- 



HER S/STER’ S R/VAE 


209 


nent remark. And now it was Catherine! 
Deceived as a lover, reviled as a husband; it 
was, indeed, too much. He sank into a 
chair, looking alternately at his wife and at 
Maurice, with his bulging eyes, no longer 
defiant, but frightened and tamed. 

“You do well to sit down,” she said, with 
a shade of sarcasm in her tone. “We have 
much to say. You are at a loss to understand 
why you did not find me here in a criminal 
position. The young woman who has just 
left possesses a heart nobler than yours. 
How the anonymous letter fell into her 
hands, I cannot say; but she would not per¬ 
mit me to become the victim of }^our coward¬ 
ice, as well as the victim of your debauch¬ 
ery.” 

M. de Vr£de writhed under these words. 
He made an impatient gesture and said, in a 
hoarse voice : 

“How can you dare speak thus, in your 
lover’s house.” 

“ M. de Fonde is not my lover,” she inter¬ 
rupted. “And you know me too well not 
to be convinced of that. When you came 
here accompanied by an officer of the law. it 
was not to avenge your honor, but solely to 
find a weapon against me. You know that 



210 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


the world pities me as much as it scorns you. 
You know that your debaucheries disgust 
even your associates in vice. You wanted 
to excuse the past, and to prepare for the 
future. And by what means ? By throwing 
mire on your wife’s name! ” 

She spoke with such dignity, with such 
haughty pride, that Maurice gazed at her in 
admiration. 

“ Madame! ”-began de Vr6de. 

“ Pray do not interrupt me,” said Cather¬ 
ine, quickly. “I have not done. You may 
answer in a moment, if you think fit. What 
is the result of your worthy calculations? 
The magistrate who escorted you can le¬ 
gally testify—legally, you understand, Mon¬ 
sieur?—to my innocence and your miscon¬ 
duct. It was not the legitimate wife he 
found; it was the mistress. Did you not ad¬ 
mit the links that unite you to Mile. Clotilde 
Veronese? I require no more to ask and ob¬ 
tain a divorce.” 

“Divorce! ” he hissed, in a frenzy, his pur¬ 
ple cheeks turning ashen, “No, indeed. I 
can easily prove that you were here-” 

“Proofs? Who will furnish them? No 
one. Not even the excellent girl who does 
you the honor of receiving you in her home. 




HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


211 


She has saved me, and would not ruin me 
now. I have found out that her heart is in 
the right place, and I feel sure of her sincer¬ 
ity. So, you see, you are the only guilty 
one. I shall become free, and it is only just, 
since I have always been a faithful wife, that 
I should be rid of you, who have always 
been an unfaithful husband ! ” 

“So be it; we shall appeal to the law,” 
said M. de Vrede rising, abruptly. “My 
servants can testify to the assiduity of M. 
de Fonde’s visits to you! ” 

“As you wish. However, I believe that 
the servants will testify in my favor. And 
what matters it, after all? To your wit¬ 
nesses, whoever they be, I will oppose but 
one testimony: that of my entire life! ” 

“ You forget that I am rich and—and you 
are not,” he retorted, with a sardonic laugh. 

“M. de Fonde will not marry me for mv 
fortune. Had my darling child lived, I would 
still continue to endure my martyrdom 
without a complaint. I sacrificed myself for 
him only. I now belong to myself, since, 
alas! Providence has broken the sacred link 
that bound me to you, I will not return to 
your house. My maid will bring me all that 
is necessary in the retreat I have chosen, 
H 



212 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


the house of the Ladies of Nazareth. Fare¬ 
well, Monsieur; I have nothing more to 
say. Your arm, Maurice! ” 

Catherine had refuted, one by one, all her 
husband’s arguments. Shrewdness and vice 
had failed against frankness and upright¬ 
ness. Catherine’s loyalty assured her suc¬ 
cess. Before leaving her husband forever, 
she gazed at him for a last time. He stood 
abashed before her, muttering confused 
phrases. He could do nothing, nothing to 
avenge himself! He fully recognized the 
truth of her words. Everybody would be 
against him. Yes, everybody! For he knew 
the universal antipathy he inspired. An an¬ 
tipathy he attributed to the jealousy of his 
neighbors, to the covetousness of his friends, 
who envied his wealth, his good health and 
his pretty mistresses. Poor unfortunate 
Sac-de-Noix! He had not even the satisfac¬ 
tion of fighting against his detested rival. 
He now wanted Clotilde Veronese more than 
ever. To be abandoned by his wife and his 
mistress at the same time, would have pro¬ 
duced a ripple of laughter from the Rue 
Boissy-d’Anglas to the Rue Royale! While 
all these confused thoughts were rushing 
through his brain, Catherine and Maurice 





HER SISTER'S RIVAL 213 


had quietly departed, leaving this husband- 
caught in his own trap like the fox of the 
fable—to his melancholy reflections. 

“ Bah! ” said M. de Vr£de, “ I must take it 
philosophically. Everything has its good 
side. Catherine will obtain her divorce. So 
much the better—a clear economy! For 
what earthly good was she to me anyway! 
Not counting that with the money she cost 
me, I can double Clotilde’s allowance! ” 

He complacently examined himself in the 
mirror, well satisfied with his vulgar reason¬ 
ings. 

“Let her get her divorce!” he repeated. 
“What do I care!” 






XXII. 

Huberte left Aix-en-Savoic the day follow¬ 
ing her interview with Maurice. Another 
would have been weary of those incessant 
journeys. But the jealousy which burned 
in Madame Andrezy’s heart goaded her to 
action, and she felt no fatigue. She knew she 
was uttering a deliberate falsehood in ac¬ 
cusing Maurice of being Catherine’s lover. 
Huberte knew her sister well enough not to 
doubt, for a moment, her irreproachable 
virtue. How Maurice must love this creature 
to accept the tortures of Platonic love! But 
would she not avenge herself? They would 
see! She trembled with rage at the mere 
thought that her schemes of vengeance 
might fail. 

This hatred against her sister dated from 
many years back! From childhood, the 


HER SI SI ERE RIVAL 


215 


character of each had been clearly defined. 
Catherine was industrious, patient, docile 
and gentle; Huberte, indolent, nervous, and 
rebellious. The former, grave, reserved, 
pious; the latter, sarcastic, forward and 
wicked. The first breach was caused by the 
parents’ comparisons. They continually re¬ 
peated to Huberte: “Catherine would not 
have done that,’’ or, “ Try to imifate Cath¬ 
erine.” Catherine always, always and 
always ! And as Huberte possessed certain 
qualities, being above all frank to a degree, 
she had never attempted to disguise her 
aversion. 

When the two girls had emerged from 
childhood, this rivalry still continued. Cath¬ 
erine won all hearts ; Huberte was loved by 
none. She was feared, while her sister was 
worshiped. Even marriageable young men 
judged the twin sisters correctly. They were 
beautiful enough to marry without a dowry; 
but they were not totally devoid of money, 
having an income of 4,000 francs each. 
Many considered that Huberte, with her 
bold gaze and giddy manners, would make 
a dangerous wife; while Catherine, with her 
look of quiet firmness, her perfect manners, 
and her proud chastity, tranquilized the 




216 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


most timorous. As often happens, the two 
sisters won verj' rich husbands by their op¬ 
posite characteristics. M. de Vr£de, a dissi¬ 
pated man, fell in love with the one who 
least resembled the women he associated 
with, and avoided the one who resembled 
them so much; while M. Garlin-Rueil, pious 
but sensual, was attracted by the enticing 
creature, whose challenging gaze and bold 
ways distinguished her from the modest, 
demure girls he usually met. 

Even in marriage the provoking compari¬ 
son continued still. At the end of a few years 
of an ill-assorted union, M. Garlin-Rueil, 
though still in lo ve with his wife, had learned 
to know her thoroughly. Why had he mar¬ 
ried this coquette, with depraved instincts, 
whose extravagant toilets created a sensa¬ 
tion all over Bordeaux, from the Grand- 
Theatre to the Public-Garden? No one, how¬ 
ever, could breathe a word against Hu- 
berte’s good name, for nothing was known 
of her secret life. The scandal did not burst 
on society until later. But M. Garlin-Rueil 
never missed the opportunity of remarking: 

“How can two sisters so perfectly alike 
physically, be so entirely dissimilar mor¬ 
ally?” 



HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


217 


“ Of what are you complaining, my dear?” 
his wife would answer impertinently. “ You 
are the one who proposed to me. Why did 
you not marry Catherine ? ’ ’ 

After the husband’s remonstrances, came 
those of all the pious cousins, nieces and 
aunts who composed the family: “ Mme. de 
Vr£de was pious; Mme. de Vr£de was chari¬ 
table; Mme. de Yr^de’s conduct was irre¬ 
proachable.” These little wounds to Hu- 
berte’s vanity gave birth to deep hatred. 
Later, she endured the supreme humiliation of 
being defended, in her time of trouble, by the 
sister she so thoroughly detested. After Hu- 
berte’s separation from M.Garlin-Rueil,Mme. 
de Vr£de had come to her rescue. Catherine 
possessed some influence with her brother- 
in-law, and owing to her intercession, Hu- 
berte was allowed to lead an honorable, if 
not a very gay existence, at Arnay-le-Comte. 

And now Mme, Andr^zy was again thrown 
in contact with this execrated sister! The 
pious Catherine had robbed her of the only 
man she had ever loved! While the train 
carried her toward Dijon, she dreamed of 
plans of revenge worthy of a Mohican. 
When she again found herself alone at Les 
Audliettes, her indefatigable brain began 




218 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


to plan and plan. First, she must have an 
ally in the place. Mme. Andr<§zy conld count 
on Julia; and through her she would receive 
the confidences made by Constant. It was 
necessary that she should know what Mau¬ 
rice’s intentions were. It was thus she 
learned he had rented apartments in Paris, 
and postponed his return to Arnay-le-Comte. 
On receiving this information she became fu¬ 
rious ; she could hope no longer. Her former 
lover had determined to rejoin Catherine 
and live near her, at any price. Huberte 
never hesitated, and her resolution was soon 
taken. After a long conversation with Julia, 
now promoted to the position of confidante, 
she left Les Audliettes for Paris. 

Four or five times a year, people whose 
names figure in the annuals of the clubs re¬ 
ceive circulars, prepared in a deceitful, crafty 
and flattering style. They are printed sheets, 

in which Monsieur-addresses himself “to 

the army, the bar, and the higher classes, etc.” 
The reader, without much perspicacity, can 
easily understand what their purpose is. They 
are issued by a firm who makes a specialty of 
supplying one with private spies. Why should 
not Mme. Andr^zy have recourse to one of 
these Argus-eyed persons, who are as vigilant 




HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


219 


as they are disinterested? She wanted to 
know the comings and goings of M. de Fonde; 
and at the same time she would be watching 
Catherine’s existence. Huberte might, no 
doubt, have feared the treachery of these so- 
called trustworthy firms, who often prac¬ 
tice a safe and remunerative form of black¬ 
mail. But by paying well, she hoped to be 
faithfully informed. Events served her to 
perfection. After a few days of observation, 
she was notified that Mme. de Vr6de visited 
M. de Fonde three times a week, in his apart¬ 
ments of the Rue de la Baume. 

So Maurice was escaping her, and forever. 
What was to be done ? A Parisian philoso¬ 
pher has remarked that, seven times out of 
ten, the jealous woman who wants to re¬ 
venge herself has recourse to the same base 
means—the anonymous letter. Each reasons 
in the same identical way: since it has al¬ 
ways succeeded, why not adopt it ? Huberte 
reflected a whole morning before throwing 
in the mail-box the four lines which she knew 
would bring the inevitable result. The infor¬ 
mation given was most precise: “Do you 
wish to know where your wife ,” etc. Mme. 
Andrezy’s vivid imagination conjured up the 
events as they should take place. She knew 



HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


that M. de Vr£de believed in Catherine’s vir¬ 
tue ; but no husband could resist the temp¬ 
tation she laid before him, especially such a 
husband as he was. The greatest punish¬ 
ment of libertines is that they distrust all 
women, even the purest. Hubertewas there¬ 
fore convinced that the mine dug under the 
feet of her enemies would explode at the ap¬ 
pointed hour. 

Notwithstanding the excessive cold of that 
Wednesday, she entered a cab and prepared 
herself to watch. Before her the Rue de la 
Baume stretched, deserted and icy, and only 
a few steps from her observatory was the 
house, No. 22, where M. de Vr£de was to sur¬ 
prise the lovers. First, Hubertesaw a stylish 
coup£ stop at the door, and a pretty crea¬ 
ture, in a showy toilet, alight from it. She 
never imagined that Cl o tilde’s presence would 
change the somber drama into a burlesque. 
Then, ten minutes later, she heaved a sigh 
of joy, as she caught sight of her brother- 
in-law, very red, very excited, gesticulat¬ 
ing in the middle of the walk. At his 
side was a stranger, a police officer, no 
doubt, who was vainly trying to calm him. 
The die was cast! Neither Catherine nor 
Maurice could now escape. Ah! how much 



HER SISTER'S RIVAL 221 


she would have wished to be present at the 
scene! For she did not apprehend for a mo¬ 
ment the failure of her scheme. 

Some time elapsed without Huberte’s pa¬ 
tience giving out. She felt neither cold nor 
fatigue; she would willingly have paid even 
more dearly for the joy of tasting her ven¬ 
geance. Suddenly she thought she must be 
dreaming; the man she had taken for a police 
officer reappeared, looking confused and 
abashed. Then, half an hour later, Cather¬ 
ine emerged from the house, leaning on M. de 
Fonde’s arm. Could things have turned out 
badly? Two hypotheses were possible: she 
had either calumniated her sister, or M. de 
Vr<§de had been satisfied with an explana¬ 
tion. But Huberte could not understand 
why her brother-in-law remained so long in 
his rival’s apartments. When she saw him 
come out in his turn, his face apoplectic, his 
eyes Jflaming with rage, she almost guessed 
the truth. Her enemies had escaped the trap 
she had set for them; but how? She was 
dying with the desire to know; her curiosity 
goaded her to frenzy. 

“Whom can I question?” thought she. 
“My sister or Maurice? Impossible; they 
would not answer me. Beside, it would be 
denouncing myself.” 



222 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


Huberte ordered the coachman to drive 
back to the hotel where she stopped on her 
unfrequent visits to Paris. She had stillhalf 
the afternoon before her to reflect and come 
to some resolution. Seated before a warm 
fire, she allowed her imagination to wander 
in the land of dreams. The idea came to her 
to call on the commissaire of that precinct, 
hoping that by simulating anxiety con¬ 
cerning her sister, she might become the re¬ 
cipient of the magistrate’s confidence. 

“No, I would only expose myself to the 
danger I wish to avoid,” she said, aloud. 
“Sooner or later Catherine would hear of 
this step, and ask herself, not without reason, 
how I knew.” 

After all, why not go to M. de Vr6de ? Her 
sister and brother-in-law supposed her in 
ignorance of everything. She should say 
she was merely going through Paris, and 
what was more natural than that she should 
visit them? Mme. Andrezv and M. de Vr6de 
had always been excellent friends. This 
Parisian rake, who was furious at the mere 
thought of a treason that would wound his 
vanity, always showed great indulgence for 
his sister-in-law’s extravagant follies. 

“ Garlin-Rueil is an imbecile,” heoftensaid. * 





HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


223 


“Why should he make such a fuss over a 
mere garrison adventure? ” 

In fact, this libertine, though he would not 
have had her as a wife, found Huberte charm¬ 
ing as a comrade. This graceful creature, with 
her bold manners and sensual gaze, pleased 
him by her outspoken perversity. It was 
only natural that the husband should not 
share this opinion ! Nothing, therefore, pre¬ 
vented Huberte from presenting herself at 
her brother-in-law’s house, and the more she 
reflected the better she saw the advantage 
of her combination. To know all without 
exciting any suspicion; this was the object. 





XXIII. 


After the violent and ridiculous scene in 
which he had played so contemptible a part, 
M. de Vr£de hastened to his club. Like all 
persons who mistrust their neighbors, he was 
in perpetual fear of the opinion of others, and 
was anxious to find out if any one had yet 
heard about the affair. He was soon re¬ 
assured on this point, however; no one 
looked at him with a curious smile, and the 
familiar faces retained their habitual ex¬ 
pression of indifference. Besides, who could 
have commited the indiscretion ? The magis¬ 
trate was held by professional secrecy; as 
to Maurice and Catherine, it was to their 
interest to be silent; Clotilde alone could be 
feared. Not that she was malicious, but she 
was so giddy. Am6d£e sincerely hoped she 
had returned straight home from the Rue de 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


225 


la Baume, and as he was to dine with her he 
would advise her to be silent. 

Somewhat calmed, he now turned his 
steps homeward, curious to know if Cath¬ 
erine had given any signs of life. On his 
arrival, a servant informed him that madame 
had sent a messenger for her maid. 

“ Good, good. No one has been here then?” 
muttered M. de Vr£de. 

“I beg monsieur’s pardon, Mme. Garlin- 
Rueil is in the drawing room waiting for 
monsieur.” 

“Just the woman I want to see!” he 
thought, pleased to have a chat with his 
sister in-law, under such circumstances. 

Huberte possessed that sovereign art— 
which all women practise so cleverly—of 
concealing curiosity under a mask of indif¬ 
ference. 

“Good day, my dear brother,” she said, as 
he entered. “Am I not a good girl? My 
first visit is for you ? How is Catherine ? 
They tell me she is out.” 

“ Out! out!” he repeated in a fury. 

Huberte began to laugh. 

“Ah! what are you laughing at? ” he 
asked, as he walked up and down the room 
excitedly, growling like a caged bear. 




226 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


Finally, he stopped in front of his sister-in- 
law, his hands thrust in his pockets, his hair 
disordered, his whole face reflecting his vul¬ 
gar instincts. 

“Your sister Catherine is always out,” he 
said, with a cynical laugh. “Oh! yes, you 
are surprised ! You allowed yourself to be 
deceived like everybody else by her pious 
looks and honeyed words. A hypocrite! 
Like all of her kind, she played the chaste 
Suzanne at home, and went to the neighbors 
for dissipation! ” 

“Are you crazy? ” asked Huberte, feigning 
indignation. 

“ No ! I am not crazy ? ’ ’ cried Am£de£, his 
face turning purple with rage. “Indeed I 
am not. Do you know where I come from ? 
I come from her lover’s house! But I will 
tell you the whole story. Upon my word, it 
is a curious one! Imagine that the other 
day I received an anonymous letter. You 
shake your head ? Oh ! I know everybody 
affects the utmost contempt for anonymous 
letters, yet they are all afraid of them. Four 
lines only it was, but of such precision! I 
learned beyond, a doubt, that—that I was no 
better treated than your husband! ” 

In any other circumstance. Huberte would 



227 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 

have resented the ill-bred allusion, but she 
now let it pass unnoticed. A curious woman 
does not resent insolence. 

“ It seems that this M. deFonde was form¬ 
erly on good terms with—with Clotilde 
Veronese,” he resumed. “You know Clo¬ 
tilde? No! Well, she is my mistress. 
Splendid woman, I asstire you, and a very 
expensive one, too ! In short, Clotilde found 
the anonymous letter, and decided to save 
the guilty ones. A comedy, my dear! Not 
even a comedy, a burlesque! I reached the 
Rue de la Baume, expecting to surprise your 
sister and—and the other. Naturally I was 
flanked by a police officer. We ascended the 
stairs, and came on them unawares. My wife? 
No. My mistress ! My mistress, who ridi¬ 
culed me in the bargain, and turned the 
tables on me so cleverly that the officer left 
quite discomfited, after apologizingto M. de 
Fonde. More than that: it is not Catherine 
who is guilty, but I. Upon my word! She 
will apply for a divorce, pleading my notori¬ 
ous misconduct! ” 

“Divorce!” This one word fell on Hu- 
berte’s ears like a knell. 

“And the worst of it is, that I cannot de¬ 
fend myself,” continued Am£dee. “ Has not 
r 5 






228 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


madame a witness ready to testify in her 
favor, in that blockhead of a police officer? 
Oh! I know well enough what she is aiming 
at. She will marry her M. de Fonde.” 

Madame Andr£zy shuddered, but she had 
too much control o ver herself to betray her 
feelings. 

“All that you tell me seems very extra¬ 
ordinary, M she said at last. “Catherine to 
ask for a divorce! ’’ 

“How she must love Maurice!” she 
thought. “ A pious woman like her must be 
ruled by an invincible passion, to resign her¬ 
self to this extremity.” 

“And how did this memorable interview 
terminate?” she resumed aloud, with a 
forced laugh. 

“Parbleu!” exclaimed her brother-in-law, 
shrugging his shoulders. “Those denoue¬ 
ments nevery var}^. Catherine will not re¬ 
turn here. She has sent for her maid, and 
will take refuge in a convent; in an austere 
house naturally ! With the Ladies of Naza¬ 
reth.” 

Am£d£e and Huberte then exchanged a 
few common-place phrases, but the former 
did not feel in the humor for conversation, 
and the latter was now in possession of all 



HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


229 


she wanted to know. She longed for soli¬ 
tude, that she might reflect on what was to 
be done. For the first time in her life, this 
fearless creature felt the ground sink under 
her feet. No resource was left her in her 
bitter disgrace. Am£d6e could do nothing to 
help her, since he possessed no power over 
his wife. When the wife takes judiciary ac¬ 
tion, the husband’s rights are not destroyed, 
but they are suspended. Until the tribunal 
pronounces judgment, she who is but a minor 
legally, enjoys almost full liberty. Huberte 
realized all this, and her ever-excited brain 
vainly sought a solution. How would she 
emerge from the maze into which she had 
strayed ? 

While reflecting, Mme. Andr^zy had re¬ 
entered her hotel, where she again seated her¬ 
self before the blazing fire, and conceived the 
most violent projects. Maurice would pay 
dearly for casting her aside! The only man 
she had ever loved to thus repulse her, and 
to give himself body and soul—to whom? 
To Catherine—to her rival the enemy of 
her whole life! Not to avenge herself? 
Neither of them could believe her so weak! 
Indeed she would avenge herself! Yes, but 
how ? Where would she find the poisoned 





230 HER SISTER'S RIVAL 

arrow she needed? Calumny could not 
stain a woman as pure as Catherine. Seduc¬ 
tion was powerless with a man like Maurice, 
who loved and trusted at the same time. 
Impossible also to create a doubt in her 
sister’s heart. Then? Then they would 
marry, be happy, and parade their insolent 
happiness in the face of all men! 

At that thought, Hubert ecried with rage. 
What! with all her intelligence, an intelli¬ 
gence sharpened by resentment, she could do 
nothing, think of nothing ? 

“ If I should kill them?’’she said aloud, 
with a slight shudder. And for the first time 
the thought of murder haunted her like the 
avenging obsession which the criminal 
cannot drive away. 



XXIV. 


The house of the Ladies of Nazareth is a 
private establishment, founded by Mile, de 
Brecourt. She was the daughter of the first 
President of the Rennes Court of Appeals, 
under Charles X, and the possessor of many 
millions. A disappointment in love gave 
this noble woman a deep disgust of the so¬ 
cial world, and she resolved to consecrate 
her life to God. Her first thought was to 
create an asylum, wherein the victims of dis¬ 
solute and libertine husbands would be shel¬ 
tered from the smiling calumnies of drawing¬ 
rooms. 

Later, however, a few widows of moderate 
fortunes, and young girls who felt no inclina¬ 
tion for the modern marriage, in which a 
husband is purchased with a dowry, chose 
this retreat as a refuge. In 1829, Mile, de 


2(32 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


Br£court erected a magnificent structure, in 
the midst of a shady park, at Auteuil, on the 
banks of the Seine. It is impossible to dream 
of a more calm and inviting retreat. Its iron 
gate, which opens into a spacious court¬ 
yard, seems like the limit of worldly Paris. 
The visitor instinctively feels that the poor 
women who suffer in heart and mind, find 
peace and consolation in this asylum. 

The institution prospered rapidly. It re¬ 
sponded to the needs of the unfortunate be¬ 
ings, in such bitter need of silence and soli¬ 
tude. Many donations, and even a few 
anonymous legacies, have increased the cap¬ 
ital given by Mile, de Br^court. To-day the 
house at Auteuil really fulfills the aim of its 
foundress. A few Sisters of St. Martha have 
taken refuge there since the dispersion of their 
order, but the one hundred and ten rooms of 
the institution are mostly occupied by women 
of society, who are awaiting the legal decis¬ 
ions that will change their slavery into com¬ 
parative freedom. 

Catherine could not have chosen a better 
asylum to escape the slanderous gossip of 
the world. She was not pious enough to re¬ 
fuse the divorce, although condemned by her 
religion, but she wished to protect her name 



HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


233 


until the blessed hour when she would be¬ 
come Maurice’s wife. 

Catherine foresaw that Maurice would op¬ 
pose her resolution. For, in becoming an 
inmate of the House of Nazareth, she had to 
accede to the discipline imposed upon all 
newcomers entering this pious abode: obedi¬ 
ence to the Lady Superior and to the rules of 
the institution, which forbid inmates to go 
out more than twice each month. As soon 
as her decision was taken, she went to visit 
Maurice, whom she had not seen since the 
famous scene. 

“You! you at last!’’ he exclaimed, cover¬ 
ing her hands with kisses. “ I have waited 
and hoped for you every hour! If you knew 
how long the time has seemed !’’ 

“Not longer than it did to me,’’ she re¬ 
plied, tenderly. 

“Now, tell me all. Where have you been 
since we separated ?” 

“I took refuge with my friend, Jeanne de 
Noisel. But why do you smile ?” 

“ Because it reminds me of our first meeting 
on the train. You defended the wife, while I 
defended the husband; but to-day I admire 
the one I spoke so thoughtlessly of then.” 

“Admit that I could not have done less 



234 


HER S/STER'S RIVAL 


than defend Jeanne. She is divorced, and I 
shall soon be.” 

‘ ‘ Free! you shall be free! ” he cried, kneeling 
before her as if before a saint. “Do you 
know the idea can scarcely penetrate my 
brain ? We are not slow to believe in misfor¬ 
tune, but we can scarcely accustom ourselves 
to happinsss. The thought that you will be 
mine, mine only, intoxicates and dazzles me. 
Imagine! to have the joy of loving you, of 
loving you in the face of heaven, without 
causing you to blush—you, so pure, so beau¬ 
tiful!” 

She closed her eyes, delighted by the words 
that lulled her like a melody. 

“You are the most beautiful, the most 
adorable, the most charming of all women. 
None can compare with you.” 

This burst of love enraptured and saddened 
her. How could she make Maurice accept a 
separation of months? And yet, ordinary 
prudence commanded that they should re¬ 
spect the prejudices of the world to the end. 
It was already for her conceding a great deal 
to accept a divorce. Her husband’s conduct 
excused the act sufficiently, but she must be 
careful to deserve no blame. 

“ Sit down here at my side,” she said, with 





HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


235 


infinite sweetness. “Now, yon must listen 
to me without interruption. You have al¬ 
ready found me very harsh, but I am going 
to be still more so ; I shall exact a sacrifice.” 

“ Catherine!” 

“Do I not suffer also? Do you imagine 
that I impose all these trials on you with a 
light heart? No, you do not and cannot be¬ 
lieve it.” 

Then, without further preamble, she in¬ 
formed him that she would enter the house 
of the Ladies of Nazareth, and remain there 
until the divorce was granted. Maurice lis¬ 
tened in silence, and with a heavy heart. He 
had thought happiness so near, and she now 
imposed a new separation. What! could 
Catherine resign herself to such an existence! 
They would see each other but twice a 
month! 

The young woman watched him closely. 
She saw the struggle that was taking place 
in his heart. Then, two big tears came into 
his eyes. She was moved by a deep senti¬ 
ment of pity. 

“ Maurice,” she murmured. 

But it was only a passing weakness. 

“Do not fear, my friend,” he replied, with 
a melancholy smile. “ I have sworn to obey 



236 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


you always, and I will not fail, whatever 
pain it may cause me. You demand that I 
should cease to see you during long months; 
for these rare and brief meetings do not 
count. I consent. ‘ To you and for you!’ is 
my motto. If I suffer, at least you will not 
know it. I shall have the pride to keep my 
sufferings to myself.” 

She tried to console him, and to impart to 
him a little of her strength. 

“Not another word !” he exclaimed. “It 
suffices that you express your wishes; I will 
obey. I have said it, and I repeat it again: 
whatever you do is right. Enter the retreat 
you have chosen, and every day I shall go and 
dream over there, near the house that shel¬ 
ters you. I have enough love to await you, 
and I shall have enough patience not to com¬ 
plain.” 

She came toward him, and he seized her in 
his arms. Their lips met in a long kiss—the 
first lovers’ kiss they had exchanged. These 
noble and high minded beings understood 
each other, and their souls were united. They 
were worthy of each other. 




XXV 

Mine. Andrezy was in a rage. Her best 
calculated combinations had crumbled, one 
after the other. First, she had hoped that a 
scandal would ruin Catherine’s reputation; 
and the scandal had rebounded on M. de 
Vr6de. Then, she had consoled herself with 
the thought that divorce would be repug¬ 
nant to her sister; and Catherine was now 
seeking a divorce. In the violence of her re¬ 
sentment, she dreamed of a crime that would 
strike the two lovers in the midst of their 
hoped-for happiness. But modern society is 
so peculiarly organized that it is easier to 
conceive than to execute an assassination. 
For, what would be the use of her vengeance 
if the blow struck her as well as her enemies ? 
There exist very inconvenient institutions, 
such as the police and the court of assizes, 


238 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


which do not hesitate in dealing out severe 
punishments to young persons who allow 
their jealousy to carry them too far. 

Moreover, she might have been capable of 
murder, in a fit of passion; but with the re¬ 
finement of her violent nature, she was inca¬ 
pable of planning such revenge. And yet she 
endured intolerable pain. When abandoned 
by Maurice, she knew that he would take 
another mistress; and, being unable to pre¬ 
vent it, she had resigned herself But. 
that this mistress should be Catherine! that 
she should become his wife! The thought 
actually maddened her. They would love 
each other in the face of heaven and all the 
world; they would go through life hand in 
hand, like the biblical couple, sheltered from 
all evil, excepting the inevitable separation. 
Her rage knew no bounds, and her wanton 
imagination evoked visions that drove her 
to desperation. 

Jealousy manifests itself in a thousand 
forms. The sensual creature does not expe¬ 
rience it in the same manner as one endowed 
with a quiet temperament, who suffers more 
through the heart than through the flesh. 
A woman like Huberte unconsciously con¬ 
fuses sentiment with sensation. She closes 




HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


239 


her eyes, and dreams of the caresses of which 
she is deprived, of the subtle kisses that 
thrilled her to the marrow. 

These thoughts tortured Huberte, and the 
more she reflected, the more she realized her 
inability to destroy accomplished facts. 
That Catherine should obtain a divorce and 
take refuge with the Ladies of Nazareth was 
only natural. But Mme. Andr<§zy could not 
believe that two persons so passionately 
in love could endure a separation of eleven 
months. One always judges one’s neighbor 
by one’s self. Huberte had believed in Cath¬ 
erine’s virtue until now; but she was con¬ 
vinced that an hour would come when, con¬ 
quered by their love, they would yield to the 
impukses of their passion. “And I can do 
nothing, nothing, nothing,” she repeated. 
This distressing conviction plunged her into 
despair. Though truly intelligent, she 
dreamed of some such romantic vengeance as 
would have evoked a smile upon the lips of 
a reader of sensational weeklies. Why not 
feign a passion for a celebrated duellist, who 
would challenge M. de F'onde? But without 
taking the absurdity of this dramatic com¬ 
bination into account, she admitted that she 
would be as severely punished as Catherine, 




240 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


since she, as well as her sister, would lose 
Maurice. For there existed an implacable 
tenacity in her nature, and in spite of all she 
still retained the foolish hope that her lover 
would return to her full of remorse and re¬ 
pentance. 

In this again, she judged Maurice by her¬ 
self. She was sensual, and knew him to be 
sensual also. She, therefore, believed that 
the young man would soon be freed from his 
illusion. That satiety would come, once he 
had obtained this so much desired woman, 
and perhaps because she had so long refused 
herself. He would soon establish compare 
sons between her and his former mistress, 
and these would not be to the advantage of 
the beautiful, haughty, pious prude! 

Vicious beings would be dangerous, if it 
were not that the evil they carry within 
themselves destroys its own venom. Hu- 
berte was utterly incapable of understand¬ 
ing the powerful charm of purity. How 
could she know that virtue is invincible, be¬ 
cause it is virtue ? This is why there still ex¬ 
isted a vague hope in her heart: that of re¬ 
conquering her lover. Since it was impos¬ 
sible to do otherwise, she would wait. She 
was convinced that the liaison between Mau¬ 
rice and Catherine could not last. 



HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


241 


For the present, she must take precau¬ 
tions, and beware of her husband. M. Garlin- 
Rueil demanded that she should remain in 
Arnay, and above all that she should stay 
away from Paris.She knew that M. de Vr6de 
would not betray her; neither would the 
servants, who were only too glad to reign 
as masters* at Les Audliettes. But she must 
be cautious, all the same. Until her plan was 
well matured, she had no wish to expose 
herself to the danger of a conjugal letter, 
ordering her to return to her retreat. She 
therefore resolved to live in concealment, that 
she might avoid dangerous meetings. Buried 
in the province, she could do nothing; in 
Paris, shecould do everything. This was the 
thought that made her resign herself to an 
existence so little in accordance with her 
tastes and temperament. 




XXVI 

Since his separation from his wife, M. 
Garlin-Rueil often sighed at the remembrance 
of the pretty deceiver. He might easily 
have consoled himself, had he not feared to 
excite the criticisms of his intolerant and vir¬ 
tuous family. I remember not who wrote, 

‘ ‘ The first half of life is spent in boring others, 
and the second half in being bored by others! ’ ’ 
The banker sometimes confided the disqui¬ 
etudes of his ardent nature to his spiritual 
adviser. Ah! one is very unhappy when one 
knows not how to resist the spirit of temp¬ 
tation. And this tempting spirit offered 
itself to the unfortunate man’s eyes under 
the most varied forms. Sometimes it as¬ 
sumed the guise of an operatic singer at the 
Grand Theatre; then it would suddenly pre¬ 
sent itself in the form of a pretty little Giron- 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


243 


dine, who would have turned the head of a 
saint. 

The worthy man who had charge of M. 
Garlin-Rueil’s conscience was sometimes 
sorely perplexed. Not that he was ignorant 
of the sad truth that it is difficult to observe 
the sixth commandment rigorously; but to 
reprove a committed fault and to quiet a 
troubled conscience, is not quite the same 
thing! He usually confined himself to vague 
remonstrances that would not have compro¬ 
mised Pontius-Pilate himself. 

“My son,’’ he would say, “place your 
trust in God! ” 

This was not very satisfactory to M. 
Garlin-Rueil. Trust his uneasy heart to God ? 
That was precisely what he had no wish to 
do! 

“If you are tempted by the devil,” he 
would continue, “it is very unfortunate— 
very unfortunate. Do not hesitate to repent. 
Above all, avoid scandal, my son. They 
who fear scandal are half forgiven! ’ ’ 

From this, the banker drew a logical de¬ 
duction ; it was that he would be but half 
guilty, if Bordeaux, whose judgment he 
dreaded, remained in ignorance of his frolics. 

And where could he hide himself better than 
16 



244 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


in Paris ? Was it not the city of indulgence 
and pleasures? No one would suspect the 
secret motive of his reiterated journeys; 
they would be attributed to important 
business, no doubt. Therefore, whenever he 
could tear himself from his banking house, 
M. Garlin-Rueil took the fast express and 
alighted on the Boulevard, cheerful and 
happy, in the anticipation of the distrac¬ 
tions that awaited him. The honest fellow 
was by no means a hypocrite. He did not 
conceal himself to avoid being accused, but 
simply that he might not excite scandal. 

M. Garlin-Rueil,naturally,had a companion 
who usually escorted him in his escapades. 
This was one of his college friends, an 
easy-going Parisian, named Fernand de 
Quinsac, who was wanting neither in wit 
nor in knowledge of the world. So, it 
happened that at the very time Mme. Au¬ 
drey was concealing herself in Paris, Quin- 
sac, on returning from his club one day, 
found his friend awaiting him. 

“What! you here, old fellow?” he cried. 
‘ ‘ This is a surprise! ” 

“I had no time to notify you.” 

“ And when did you come? ” 

“Two hours ago.” 




HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


245 


“Fortunate man!” 

“Why?” 

“ Because you believe that we still amuse 
ourselves in Paris! Apropos , are you at 
liberty this evening? ” 

“I am always at liberty—you know it 
well.” 

“Well, then! if your—your scruples do not 
inconvenience you, I will invite you to dine 
with a merry crowd. There will be-” 

De Quinsac stopped, abruptly, and burst 
into a laugh. 

“Oh! oh ! you are very gay ! ” retorted M. 
Garlin-Rueil, with a shade of uneasiness. 

“ How stupid you are. I have no interest 
in compromising you. Are you not one of 
my oldest friends ? And I will say, between 
us, that you are very good to take so many 
precautions. You are separated from your 
wife—it is a misfortune I should have to bear 
myself, if I committed the folly to marr3'. 
Discreetly, without a word to anybody, you 
come to Paris for a little amusement. Where 
is the harm ? But let us resume the subject. 
Yes or no, will you come to this dinner? ” 

The good Edouard’s eyes sparkled with 
joy. The proposition evidently suited him, 
but he was divided between fear and desire. 




246 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


“To reassure you completely,” resumed de 
Quinsac, I will name the guests. You will 
then be convinced that you are unknown to 
them all. To begin with, General Maurec, 
an old veteran who enlivens his retreat by 
mingling in the gay world; then two pretty 
women: Clotilde Veronese, an adorable 

red-haired beauty, and Nelly Birague, of the 
Gymnase.” 

“Stage beauties! Hum! hum!” inter¬ 
rupted Edouard. 

“ Don’t be frightened! No one will know 
you as the honorable M. Ga,rlin-Rueil. I 
will present you under the name of—of 
Gobert.” 

Fernand de Quinsac was too egotistic to 
care whether his friend amused himself or 
not. He deigned to pilot him once in a 
while, that was all. But the Parisian now 
saw an excellent occasion to play a farce. 
He had known Clotilde Veronese since the 
time when the pretty girl had been Edmond 
Sorbier’s mistress, and was sure he could 
easily persuade her that she would gain a 
great deal by striking a friendship with the 
provincial. Although very wealthy, she never 
missed an opportunity of increasing her rev¬ 
enue. And if everything went well, the situa- 



HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


247 


tion would become most amusing. The two 
brothers-in-law would be rivals without 
knowing it, and de Quinsac counted on a 
very laughable burlesque when they should 
discover the fact. This man of the world 
would have been greatly astonished if any¬ 
one had hinted that his scheme, however 
comical it might be, did not shine in point of 
morality. In fact, morality is only a relative 
quantity. It all depends on the habits we 
practise, the circle in which we live, and the 
kind of conscience we possess. 

The dinner was to take place at eight 
o’clock, in a fashionable caf^. Fernand, more 
and more delighted with his scheme, hastened 
to Clotilde to prepare her for the fray. 

“How charming you are to come after 
me!” exclaimed the cocotte, throwing her 
arms around his neck. 

“I am even more charming than you 
think,” he replied. “ I came to tell you that 
I have invited a friend whom you do not 
know, but who knows you well.” 

“ Ah ! who is he? ” 

“A provincial, my dear, who has been pas¬ 
sionately in love with you for—for three 
weeks. A provincial of ancient family ; that 
is rich as a rastaquouere , and innocent as— 
oh! well, you shall see.” 



248 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


“What is the use of telling me all this?” 
cried out Clotilde, with a disdainful pout. 
“That stupid Amed£e never leaves me. 
Since his wife has applied for a divorce he is 
always at my heels.” 

“ Still, you are at liberty to-night! ” 

“Oh! this is just a lucky chance. I told 
him I was going to visit a sick aunt. But 
my aunt cannot be sick every day.” 

“I should be most sorry to injure the 
health of any member of your family; all 
the same, come and dine with my friend 
Gobert. Then you can decide at your own 
convenience.” 

“ You are right. I am dying of hunger; let 
us go.” 

Clotilde was naturally a coquette; and 
moreover it required but little to win the 
virtuous Edouard. At the end of half an 
hour, she felt convinced that he would obey 
her slightest caprice or whim. When the 
party broke up at midnight, Garlin-Rueil 
had obtained the permission to call on Clo¬ 
tilde the very next day. He had the happy 
forethought to send an exquisite bracelet 
that morning before his visit. This attention 
touched Clotilde’s heart, and the banker was 
immediately classed among her favorites. 



HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


249 


They understood each other on their very 
first interview. But in what delicate phrases 
these understandings are achieved. The 
young woman spoke discreetly of an “old 
friend who—a former attachment that—” 
One either has or has not a heart. As to money, 
only very vague allusions were made to it. 
Gobert gave jewels, a coupe , even a pair of 
horses. And he was thoroughly convinced 
that he was loved for himself, for himself 
only. This is the penalty of such unconven¬ 
tional love affairs; the man is his own, as 
well as his mistress’, dupe. Where would 
truth be if it were not thus ? Where would 
justice be if the sentiments we buy possessed 
the sincerity of the sentiments we exchange 
as free and invaluable gifts ? 

M. Garlin-Rueil was so deeply enamored 
that his visit of a few days was prolonged 
to two weeks, and his attentions to Clo- 
tilde became more and more assiduous. 

“The provincial appears very much smit¬ 
ten,” observed Fernand de Quinsac one day. 

“ Yes, he is very devoted,” she said, with a 
mocking smile. 

“ He still believes himself on the raft of the 
Medusa?” 

“And yet I am not a plank ! ” 



250 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


The event anticipated by de Quinsac was 
not long in coming. One morning Clotilde 
and her new admirer were enjoying a gay 
breakfast, when a maid rushed excitedly 
into the room. 

“ Madame, it is Monsieur! ” she cried. 

Clotilde possessed one quality at least; 
she was determined to be mistress in her 
own home. 

“Monsieur,” she said, quietly. “There is 
no Monsieur. Tell him I am not alone, and 
will not be disturbed.” The young woman 
had scarcely uttered these words, when M. 
de Vr£de, red and furious, flung the door 
open. 

“ I must speak to you ! ” he cried, roughly. 
But he stopped short, and his anger was 
suddenly changed into stupefaction. 

“ What! ” Garlin-Rueil! ” he exclaimed. 

“Am6d6e!” 

“What? do you know each other? ” asked 
Clotilde, a light dawning upon her. “But 
no, you are mistaken, my little darling. 
Edouard’s name is not Garlin-Rueil; it is 
Gobert.” 

These words were a revelation to M. de 
Vr6de. Although his brother-in-law was a 
pious banker, he was most assuredly not 



HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


251 


playing a pious role in this house! Or why 
should he have presented himself under a 
false name ? Deceived in his wife and in his 
mistress! The measure was overflowing! 
He became livid. 

“I do not know him—I do not know him 
—He is my brother-in-law!” he howled. “ De¬ 
ceived! deceived once more! It is too 
much! Adieu, Madame; you will never see 
me again.” 

And he rushed out, boiling over with rage, 
to see his place taken by this Garlin-Rueil, 
for whom he cherished a secret disdain. As 
to Clotilde, she was perfectly dumbfounded, 
but aided by her natural cunning, she 
guessed the whole truth. 

“ How funny! ” she exclaimed. 

“ What ?” muttered the unhappy Edouard, 
whose discomfiture was pitiful to behold. 

“To think you are not Gobert, my little 
darling — but Garlin-Rueil — Madame An- 
dr^zv’s husband! ” 

And now she spoke of his wife! M. Gar- 
lin-Rueil thought he must be dreaming. 

Chance, for the second time, brought Clo¬ 
tilde into M. de Fonde’s love affairs; and she 
determined to continue her role of protecting 
angel. This role so seductive to virtuous 



252 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


women, is particularly so to those who are 
not virtuous nor pretend to be. 

Ah! Madame Andr£zv obstinately re¬ 
mained in Paris, threatening Maurice’s 
happiness. Ah! well, she the mistress, 
would engage in the struggle with the legiti¬ 
mate wife, and the latter would soon see who 
was the stronger! 






XXVII. 


Madame Andr^zy was preparing to go 
out, when a card was brought in by one 
of the chambermaids of the hotel. 

“The gentleman wishes to know if Ma¬ 
dame will receive him,” she said. 

Huberte took the card in astonishment, 
and could scarcely repress a cry of horror as 
she read the name. Her husband ! Howhad 
he discovered that she was in Paris ? Why 
this unexpected visit, which their reciprocal 
situation rendered incomprehensible? 

“ Tell him to come up,” she ordered. 

She cast a rapid glance in the mirror; for¬ 
tunately, jealousy and anger did not prevent 
her from being pretty. This seductive 
creature had many reasons to be anxious to 
please her cruel husband ! Did he not allow 
her a large income ? Beside, in the depth of 


254 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


her heart there still lurked the hope of being 
forgiven some day. How would he find her 
after so long a separation ? M. Garlin-Rueil 
entered the room feeling somewhat embar¬ 
rassed, but resolved not to leave until he had 
said all he had to say. 

“Thank you for receiving me,” he stam¬ 
mered, “ I feared to disturb you.” 

“Is not my home always yours? ” she re¬ 
plied with a shade of melancholy in her voice. 

This seemingly insignificant phrase was full 
of meaning: “The law has not disunited 
us, because our hearts have ceased to under¬ 
stand each other. Who knows ? It may be 
but a misunderstanding.” And her looks, her 
manners, had an eloquence more significant 
still! “My home is always yours, because 
I belong to you. Whether you will or not, 
I am yours.” AncJ the artful coquette re¬ 
membered the empire she had once exercised 
over this pious and sensual man. But to 
her great surprise the virtuous Edouard re¬ 
ceived her adroit and tempting appeals 
coldly. 

“Thank you,” he replied. “But I am 
forced to speak of more serious things. When 
we separated, I acted very generously toward 
you, didn’t I ?” 




HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


255 


“Yes, indeed! ” 

“In exchange for the allowance I made 
you, I exacted but one condition from you: 
that you should remain in Arnay-le-Comte.” 

“ But this visit to Paris is only accidental.” 

“I would forgive it willingly were it not 
that you are remaining here to injure a 
woman whom I love and respect.” 

“I, injure!—” 

“ Do not deny it. I know all.” 

How many have used these three fatidic 
words! Their effect is infallible! Are they 
not at the same time vague and menacing ? 
Huberte was frightened. 

“I do not understand,” she said nervously. 

“ Oh! you understand very well! If I must 
dot the i’s, I will do so. You wrote an 
anonymous letter to M. de Vr£de? ’ 

Mme. Andr£zy was wanting neither in 
courage nor frankness. 

“You are right,” she answered, with a 
haughty smile. “You know all; I can deny 
nothing. It is true, I have denounced Cath¬ 
erine.” 

“I was sure you would not lie, rejoined 
M. Garlin-Rueil. “You have many faults, 
but you are sincere. Be so to the end. Your 
sister has acted admirably toward you. You 



256 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


owe her a great deal. Then whvdo you hate 
her? ” 

Huberte could find nothing to reply to this 
precise and direct question. Yes, indeed, her 
husband was perfectly informed. One word 
more, and she would be forced to admit the 
jealousy excited by her rejected love. Her 
husband had reduced her to silence. 

“It is useless to enter into painful details,’ ’ 
resumed the banker. “ I do not want you to 
remain in Paris.” 

“You do not want! That’s so—voii are 
the master,” she cried bitterly. 

“And I act as a master because 3 r ou act as 
a perfidious and wicked creature. You must 
leave to-morrow! ” 

To be treated thus! Huberte was in a 
fury. But her cunning instinct warned her to 
be prudent. 

“ I will obey,” she murmured. 

“I advise you to do so. Adieu.” 

For a few minutes Mme. Andr<§zy was com¬ 
pletely prostrated. Everything combined to 
thwart her and favor the love of Catherine 
and Maurice! In Paris, she could watch her 
enemies, lay traps for them, who knows? 
perhaps separate them by skillful manoeu- 
vers. And now she must go! Butwliathad 



HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


257 


wrought this change in her husband ? Whence 
came this fierce will, this inflexible energy? 
Physically, M. Garlin-Rueil no longer re¬ 
sembled himself. Though always careful of 
his person, his clothes, his manners had 
hitherto betrayed the provincial; now he 
was dressed and had the manners of a 
boulevardier. Instinctively, the young wo 
man guessed that one person only could give 
her exact information on that point: this was 
her brother-in-law. In fact, they were allies, 
since a common interest united them. She 
immediately dispatched a few lines to M. de 
Vr6de, who answered at once. He was 
awaiting his sister-in-law’s disclosures with 
impatience. These two beings understood 
each other thoroughly. Both were devoid 
of moral sense; both were filled with the 
same hatreds, the same passions; and both 
would recoil before nothing. 

‘ ‘ I presume you want to know how my af¬ 
fairs with Catherine are going on,” said 
Am6d£e. “It is very simple. She has begun 
proceedings for a divorce.” 

“But—Catherine—where is she?” asked 
Huberte. 

“ At the house of the Ladies of Nazareth! ” 
“Ah!” 



258 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


“Yes, and you must go and see her. Feign 
a reconciliation with her, implore her pardon 
—for she is very angry with you! Why ? I 
know not. Then all will be very easy. We 
will know all that is going on in the enemy’s 
camp, while they will know nothing of our 
preparations. What do you say ? ’ ’ 

“I say—I say that your plan is ingenious, 
but impracticable.” 

“Why?” 

She then told him of the visit of the morn¬ 
ing, and the order she had received to leave 
Paris and return to Arnay-le-Comte. Six 
months previous, she might have hoped for a 
reprieve. A young and pretty woman always 
retains a certain influence over the man who 
once adored her. But the Garlin-Rueil of to¬ 
day had nothing in common with the Garlin- 
Rueil of older days. Who could have believed 
in such an inexplicable rejuvenescence ? The 
pious Bordeaux banker suddenly transformed 
into a Parisian fop! 

“I will give you the key to the mystery,” 
exclaimed Am£d£e, with a knowing air. 

“You?” 

“Yes, I!” 

“Imagine, my dear, that I had a—a friend 
who adored me. But then, she was only a 




HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


259 


woman! Dazzled by your husband’s riches, 
Clotilde—Clotildeishername-has been guilty 
of a few little infidelities with Garlin-Rueil. 
I must hasten to add that she soon regretted 
her perfidy. A woman does not lose a man 
like me with a light heart. So that now 
Clotilde deceives Garlin-Rueil with me, 
instead of deceiving me with him.” 

The name of Clotilde was a revelation to 
Huberte. A light was suddenly thrown on 
the events that were still in darkness. She 
remembered Maurice’s confidences: his liaison 
with the pretty Veronese, and the amusing 
scene of the rupture which he had related in 
such a droll manner. It was through Clo¬ 
tilde that Maurice and Catherine had es¬ 
caped M. de Vr£de and the commissaire de 
police; it was Clotilde’s influence that had 
Parisianized the provincial; it was the same 
Clotilde who forced Garlin-Rueil to show 
himself so rigorous towards his wife. Hu¬ 
berte was growing stronger in the struggle. 
When this bold creature saw obstacles ac¬ 
cumulating in her path, she concentrated all 
her energies to overcome them and conquer. 
M. de Vr£de had calculated right. The 
sisters must become reconciled at any cost. 
But how? Huberte’s inventive genius was 
17 



260 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


never at a loss. Her brain was already at 
work. Without hesitating, she resolved to 
go straight to Catherine, knowing well that 
her sister would never make the first ad¬ 
vances. What mattered one more wound to 
her pride when she thirsted for revenge. 




XXVIII. 


One of the superiorities of woman is, that 
she can console herself with the remembrance 
of happiness. When she loves, her thoughts 
sustain and strengthen her. To keep alive 
the sacred flame, she does not require the 
real presence, so necessary to the man. In 
her retirement, Catherine carried with her 
the secret joys of her love. Why did she 
condemn herself to this harsh retreat? It 
was because knowing the jealous instinct 
and the wickedness of the world in which she 
lived, she wished to bring to Maurice an 
immaculate reputation. It was natural that 
she should reason thus, and not like most 
women of Parisian society; her religious 
education, her piety, unwittingly influenced 
her. To her, divorce appeared like an immo¬ 
rality. The greatness of her love excused it 


262 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


in her own eyes; but at least, she would en¬ 
deavor to redeem this voluntary fault by the 
austerity of her conduct and the purity of 
her demeanor. 

Like all her companions in the Auteuil re¬ 
treat, Catherine went out but twice a month. 
And how fast she hurried to the Rue de la 
Baume on the day of their first rendezvous! 
The two fiances passed a delicious day—one 
of those days that date in our lives. “ Vul- 
nerant omnes, ultima necat: every hour 
wounds, the last kills,” says the prophetic 
inscription on the belfry of Urugne. There 
are, however, never to be forgotten hours 
that engrave immortal souvenirs on a wo¬ 
man’s heart. Each minute of that blessed 
day repaid one of the old pains. In seeing 
Maurice so tender, so devoted, so loving, 
Catherine forgot the vulgar and libertine 
husband to whom fate had chained her. At 
first the young man had strength enough to 
master his ardent passion ; but as the hours 
glided by and the time for separation ap¬ 
proached, he became more audacious and 
pressing. 

“You know how much I love you. Why 
do you refuse yourself so cruelly, my dear 
Catherine?” he pleaded. “Are we not 



HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


2H3 


united forever ? What in reality is a vulgar 
signature, hastily given in a mayor’s office, 
beside the sacred links that unite us already?” 

And taking the supple form in his arms, he 
strained her wildly to his heart. Catherine 
felt her resolutions weaken. Had he not 
loved a long time ? She had resisted at first 
because she wished to remain faithful to her 
oath before God. But now she was free. 
And while these thoughts conflicted in her 
mind, Maurice resumed in a supplicating 
tone: 

“You have sacrificed your religious ideas 
for me. And you will never know how grate¬ 
ful I am to you. Then why repulse me; why 
impose upon me a useless martyrdom ? Re¬ 
member how cruel are those feverish hours 
during which I wander anxiously around 
the house in which you dream of me! ’ ’ 

He covered her face and hands with ardent 
kisses; she closed her eyes; trembling, in¬ 
toxicated by those tender words that re¬ 
echoed in her heart. She loved for the first 
time in her life, for the first time she belonged 
heart and soul to a man worthy of her, a 
man who adored her and whom she thorough¬ 
ly trusted. She saw herself weakening and in¬ 
capable of resisting. Her womanly modesty 



264 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


became alarmed, less through revolt than 
terror. Kneeling before him, with clasped 
hand, she pleaded. 

“I am yours—say one word and I am 
yours. Do you not know that in parting I 
want to keep the ineffaceable souvenir of 
your kisses ? And yet, have pity on me, my 
only friend. I want—oh ! not through a vain 
sentiment of egotistic virtue—I want the 
divine romance of our love to be unsullied by 
vulgar realities ; to become your wife without 
having been your mistress. It is foolish! I 
know it well! Admit that I am foolish, 
admit that I have no pity for your sufferings. 
Do you think that I am happy? Decide! 
and then take me if you want me ! ” 

As she finished these incoherent words, 
Catherine raised her e3^es beseechingly, and 
he read a despairing appeal in her look. 

She exacted a cruel sacrifice—but in such 
a way that her fianc<§ could not refuse to 
obey her. 

Maurice caught her in his arms, and their 
lips met in a long kiss. “I love you,” she 
murmured. But suddenly he felt a shudder 
agitating her body—again he read that de¬ 
spairing appeal in her eyes, and he tore him¬ 
self from her. 



HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


265 


“ Let your will be done. Mistress or wife, 
command and I obey.” 

“Ah! howl adore you!” she cried wildly. 

“In pity, not a word more,” he said, 
brokenly. 

They were silent for a few moments. She 
was proud of him, of him so superior to all 
men, in whom the appeals of passion are 
always uppermost. And he felt a veneration 
for this woman who had taught him to 
understand what a “ virtuous woman is.” 

Those among us who have lived in the vari¬ 
ous Parisian worlds, especially in these days 
of universal immorality, havebecome utterly 
skeptical in regard to virtue. The most 
credulous come to consider it as an agreeable 
subject of philosophical discussion. And, 
still, behold this man of the world, this 
boulevardier , already purified by a delicate 
love, now elevated to the grandeur of sacri¬ 
fice by contact with a superior nature. 
Catherine was not playing the comedy of of¬ 
fended modesty. “Take me!” she said. And 
if she added, “I beseech you not to take 
me,” it was that she wished to reserve her¬ 
self entirely for the accepted and promised 
husband. 

When they separated (for she determined 




266 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


to return alone to the Ladies of Nazareth) 
the lovers had reason to be proud of 
themselves. It is easy to overcome tempta¬ 
tion once, but almost impossible to conquer 
it always. Catherine carried away a happi¬ 
ness that filled her soul; Maurice preserved 
immaculate the blessed image of the one he 
adored. 






XXIX. 


The next day Catherine arose, joyous and 
light-hearted. Her joy would not have been 
less if she had given herself to Maurice, but a 
vague regret might have mingled with it. 
The best human actions are influenced by a 
little egotism. She was happy to love a man 
who was noble enough to understand her, 
happy to have inspired him with as much re¬ 
spect as passion. Oh ! she could now face, 
without fear, the prospect of the long retreat 
she must endure until the divorce was 
granted. It was one of those days in which 
life seems less stern, the sun brighter, the 
sky more smiling. When her toilet was fin¬ 
ished she went down into the garden, where 
she was soon joined by a nun, who an¬ 
nounced that a lady wished to see her. At 
first Catherine was astonished, then she re- 


268 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


fleeted that it was probably one of her 
friends, for the world had pronounced itself 
in favor of the deceived wife in the sudden 
quarrel between herself and her husband. 

“ Let her come to my room,” she said. 

A few minutes later Huberte entered Cath¬ 
erine’s room. 

“ You! ” cried Catherine, in amazement, as 
she beheld her sister. 

“Is my visit really so painful to you?” 
murmured Huberte, humbly. 

As Catherine was too much agitated and 
surprised to answer, Huberte continued : 

“ I have acted so badly toward you! Even 
worse than you can suppose. It is f true, I 
admit, that since our childhood I have hated, 
detested and been jealous of, you! ” 

She uttered these words with such vio¬ 
lence that Catherine shuddered. 

“And yet I have never done you any harm,” 
she replied, sadly. “ I love you, whatever may 
be your wrongs towards me. I love you 
because you are my sister, because we are 
linked, whether you will or not, by a thou¬ 
sand souvenirs of our childhood, because— 
Ah! should we not love one another doubly 
since we are doubly sisters? Daughters of the 
same mother, daughters of the same hour! ” 




HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


261) 


“Pray, forgive me,” said Huberte, falling 
on her knees. 

k ‘ Huberte, arise! 1 ’ 

“Forgive me.” 

“ I forgive you—but I do not want you to 
kneel before me.” 

“ I obey. And yet if you knew how guilty 
I am ! If you knew what infamies I have 
committed! ” 

“I have no wish to know. Whatever may 
be the actions you call infamies—tell them to 
God. He alone can condemn or absolve 
you ! v 

“I beseech you to hear me! After all 1 
have done, I would not dare look you in the 
face if you remained in ignorance of my 
abominable machinations! ” 

These words astounded Catherine. What 
machinations! She could not understand. 

“Sit here, near me,” resumed Huberte. 
“Look at me with your large, sincere eyes. 
It will remind me of those days when I con¬ 
fessed my faults to you, and begged you to 
plead my cause with mamma. You were 
always loved! As far back as I can remem¬ 
ber, you were spoilt, petted and caressed. 
You were the model, the example, and from 
morning till night I was bored by the recital 



270 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


■v 

of your virtues. This is what gave birth to 
my hatred! But I will pass the rest in 
silence. If I added my jealousies as a young 
girl to my angers as a child, I would never 
end. At last the day came which created an 
abyss between us, an abyss which alone 
could bring my repentance and your forgive¬ 
ness ; we loved the same man.” 

Catherine gave a hoarse cry, that almost 
seemed a sob. 

“ Maurice! ” she cried. 

“ He was my lover! ” 

The two sisters gazed at each other. Cathe¬ 
rine was overwhelmed with terror and stupe¬ 
faction. 

“ Your lover—your lover! ” she repeated, as 
if in a dream. 

“ Oh! do not fear! It was you he loved in 
me! When he took refuge in Arnay-le- 
Comte, he had already met you, and your 
image pursued him incessantly. His kisses, 
his caresses, were for the unknown, for the 
one who possessed him entirely. He told me 
so at Aix-les-Bains, when, wild with love, I 
humbled myself to supplicate him.” 

Catherine’s ideas were becoming mpre and 
more confused. So Maurice had an estate in 
the little town in which Huberte lived ? Her 



HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


271 


sister had come to Aix-les-Bains ? Then why 
had Maurice concealed all this from her? 

“ You know me, Catherine,” continued Hu- 
berte. “ You know all the injury I have done 
myself through pride. You have often said 
to me: ‘Your vanity is your ruin.’ Ah! 
well, I implored the man I loved, and who 
loves you. Nothing could bend him. Then 
anger took possession of me, and-” 

Huberte stopped, hesitating, not daring to 
go on. Catherine looked at her anxiously, as 
if she guessed the words that her sister would 
utter, 

“ And—what did you do ? ” she stammered. 

Huberte buried her head between her hands 
and wept—shedding real tears. How could 
Catherine help being deceived by the come¬ 
dienne? 

“What did I do? An infamous thing! 
The anonymous letter denouncing you to 
your husband—.” 

“It was you who wrote it! ” cried Cathe¬ 
rine, rising, terrified. 

“Yes.” 

There was a silence. The two sisters re¬ 
mained motionless. Huberte leaned forward, 
her head bowed with the humility of a sin¬ 
ner; Catherine stood there, pale, nervous 





272 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


and trembling. An absolute contrast was 
presented in the faces of these twin sisters, so 
alike in features, but agitated by emotions 
so widely different. They were distinguish¬ 
able only by the contrary expressions re¬ 
flected in their faces. Yet, a subtle psycholo¬ 
gist could have noted the dissimilarity of 
their natures by the dissimilarity of their 
physiognomies. He would have guessed the 
chastity of the one and the sensuality of the 
other. 

Notwithstanding the agitation caused by 
this confession, Catherine succeeded in con¬ 
trolling her emotion. 

“Then,” she said, you have committed 
this—you have done this, driven by anger 
and jealousy?” 

“Yes.” 

“ As you said a few moments ago, I know 
you to be frank. Therefore, whatever may 
be your answer, I will believe you. Did no 
other sentiment excite you against me?” 

“ Was not this jealousy sufficient? ” 

“Yes. But I want to know. There are 
things which I do not understand.” 

“ Oh ! You have nothing to fear! Maurice 
confessed all, the first days of our liaison. 
After your meeting on the train he already 
loved you—if I can call it love. You inter- 




HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


273 


ested him, or rather puzzled him. A hazard 
—what imbeciles call Providence!—brought 
M. de Fondeto Arnay-le-Comte; And it was 
you whom he found in me. Do you under¬ 
stand? I was fascinated, and gave myself 
to him at once. I am one of those happy 
and accursed creatures who are swayed by 
the fatalities of the flesh. But why relate 
how I went to Aix-en-Savoie; how from afar 
I watched and spied on you. When you re¬ 
turned to Paris after your cruel loss, I still 
followed you. You know the rest. Know¬ 
ing you to be innocent, I denounced you as 
guilty. But Providence watched over you. 
The infamous action rebounded against me; 
instead of ruining you, it liberated you. I 
saw my punishment, and was overwhelmed 
with repentance and remorse. Then I came 
to you. Do you now understand why I 
knelt before you, why I implored you ? I, so 
miserable and so base, I begged your for¬ 
giveness, you so high and so pure.” 

“You have suffered much,” said Catherine 
gently. 

“Yes, I have suffered!” cried Huberte, a 
flame coming into her dark eyes. 

Catherine approached her, and grasping 
her hands, she said in a strange voice: 



274 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


“You have wept, have you not ? You have 
despaired of life; you have accused Fate? 
I know the pain of those dark and weary 
hours—we endure the martyrdom of love af¬ 
ter tasting of its joys. I pity you. You 
have tried to ruin me? I forgive you. My 
heart is so full of happiness that I wish to 
forget all but the links that unite us. Be in 
peace, my poor child, since you have loved, 
since you have suffered.” 

Catherine clasped her sister in her arms 
and kissed her long and tenderly. Huberte 
was so agitated that she could not find 
words to reply. 

“The past exists no longer,” resumed 
Catherine. “ Let us begin a new existence, 
and let our future affection for each other be 
new also. Henceforth rely on me as I rely 
on you.” 

“ Thank you.” 

“Shall I see you again?” 

“ Alas! no, I leave to-night.” 

“It is true, my poor child, I was forget¬ 
ting that you are an exile. Ah! well, I will 
soon obtain the liberty you desire from your 
husband.” 

“ Ah! if you could only do that! ” 

“I will go and see you. It will almost 



HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


275 


seem like the days of our childhood to be alone 
together in the solitude of your mountains.” 

“You will come to Arnay-le-Comte ? ” 
asked Huberte in a sort of joyous stupor. 

“ Why not ? Would my visit inconvenience 
you?” 

“Inconvenience me? I did not dare hope 
that you would come! ” 

“ You may count on me.” 

“I am delighted. You are such a good 
creature that I will become better near you. 
Think of the cruel hours that await me, 
when in a few months your divorce shall be 
pronounced ? You will become his—his wife, 
you will bear his name, you will be in full 
and free possession of each other. With my 
jealous nature, I will envy your permitted 
love; with my sensual nature, I will envy 
your kisses. For I know the raptures of his 
kisses! ” 

Catherine shuddered. Huberte, who was 
watching her, had at last a moment of joy. 

“You shall see, I will guess your caresses. 
You must teach me to be brave. When you 
have taught me kindness, you must teach 
me resignation.” 

They kissed once more, and Huberte left. 
Catherine naively imagined she had redeemed 
18 



276 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


that sister whom she had believed forever 
lost. Ah! if she could have seen the change 
that came over Mme Andr^zy when she 
found herself alone, once more, in the deserted 
streets of Auteuil! She directed her steps to¬ 
ward the railway, and soon reached the little 
bridge that spans the road. Seeing a bench 
in the midst of the leafless trees, she seated 
herself. Oh! no, she was no longer the same! 
A sharp wind was blowing, but Huberte did 
not feel the cold. Her fury and jealousy 
warmed her. So that simpleton, Catherine, 
believed that a woman like her sister Huberte 
would allow herself to be robbed of the man 
she loved without a word ! She would see! 
But how ? Yes, how could she avenge her¬ 
self? A hundred contrary projects conflicted 
in her brain. Nevertheless, she vaguely 
traced a plan, the success of which appeared 
assured. Catherine would come to Arnay- 
le-Comte; she would remain at Les Audliettes 
for a week, perhaps two weeks. The length 
of her visit was, after all, of little import¬ 
ance, but she must come. And once over 
there- 

Huberte began to walk feverishly. Once 
before, the thought of crime had haunted her. 
The abominable thought seized her again, as 




HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


277 


if clutching her throat. To kill Catherine! 
And why not? Was not Catherine killing 
her happiness forever ? An eye for an eye, a 
tooth for a tooth. 

The young woman returned toward Paris, 
filled with this atrocious idea. Ah! Maurice 
thought he was nearing happiness; ah! he 
was patiently enduring this time of trial by 
saying to himself: “In ten months, in a year 
she will belong tome; I shall be happy.” 
Catherine would belong to the earth only, to 
the earth, where her beautiful body would be 
eaten, devoured—and if Maurice could not 
bear the loss, if he killed himself in a fit of 
despair, well then, these two lovers who 
were stupid enough to remain chaste, would 
be forever united in death. This was the only 
wedding the discarded mistress would grant 
them. 

About the middle of the Bois, Huberte 
stopped. She turned her face in the direction 
of Auteuil, and hurled enraged maledictions 
into space, crying aloud, so as to hear her¬ 
self speak: 

“You forgive me, Catherine—I do not for¬ 
give you! ” 




XXX. 


Meanwhile the attorneys had exchanged 
their pretty, stamped papers. The divorce 
suit was “ going on well,” as they say at the 
Palais. M. de Vr^de’s counsel had given 
him the wisest of advice. 

“Your case is a bad one,” he said. “Your 
wife will win.” 

“ Are you sure of it? ” asked Am6de£. 

“ Quite sure. You don’t care much, do you ?” 

“For what? ” 

“ Your wife.” 

“ Oh! not at all.” 

“ Then the less money spent the better. The 
best plan is to let it go by default—that is, 
pay np attention to it. Send me all the 
papers you receive. Continue your gay ex¬ 
istence, and don’t trouble yourself about 
anything.” 




HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


279 


“Bravo!” 

“ My plan appears—” 

“Very reasonable.” 

“ Better still. Don’t even read the villain¬ 
ous papers. To begin with, it is a clear 
economy. If you make no defense, you will 
have only my fees to pay, and no barrister’s 
costs.” 

The winter passed, and Am6dee scarcely 
remembered he possessed a legitimate spouse. 
Moreover, Clotilde Veronese caused him 
enough uneasiness. It seemed as if the 
cocotte had sworn to avenge the wife. Garlin- 
Rueil, still faithful and loving, visited her 
regularly two or three times a month. In 
the intervals, the pretty girl eagerly devoured 
Amedee’s gold pieces. Each day, brought a 
new fancy ; now it was a pearl necklace, now 
an emerald brooch. In the month of April 
she took a fancy for a country-house, and 
accepted a little chateau in Seine-et-Marne. 
As she loved ancient furniture and tapestry, 
this whim cost fully two hundred thousand 
francs. But the lollowing month, Am6d6e 
was forced to draw on his capital for a much 
larger amount. His mistress had brought 
him in contact with several members of the 
Bourse, who turned his head by their allur- 




t'80 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


ing promises. Thinking to regain in specula¬ 
tion the enormous sums spent in gallantries, 
he invested heavily in mining stock. A rapid 
fall in the stock followed. But Am^d^ehoped 
for a reaction, and when at last he was 
forced to liquidate, this brilliant operation 
resulted in the loss of half a million. 

Moreover, at this epoch, M. de Vredeseemed 
to have lost his head. All follies appeared to 
him feasible. And as he had no friends, there 
was no one to warn and advise him. Is it 
not always thus? We usually believe that 
human actions are not subjected to a supe¬ 
rior sanction. Let us look closely and we 
shall find that good and evil share life 
equally. In this world, we are punished or 
recompensed, and the punishment of this 
wretched libertine was not long delayed. 

He did not trouble himself much about his 
rival; though he met Maurice at the club 
and at the theatre, he seemed to have almost 
forgotten the past, and that the young man 
was soon to marry his wife. On his side, 
Maurice paid little attention to him. His 
life was spent in the feverish expectation of 
the happy day when he would again see 
Catherine. The rest did not count, although 
he spent most of his time in building fairy pro- 



HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


281 


jects for the future. He made calculation after 
calculation, adding Catherine’s small for¬ 
tune to his own; but it was impossible to 
find a total of more than twenty-two or 
twenty-three thousand francs of income. 

“What matters,” he thought; “we shall 
not be rich, but we will be happy. Happi¬ 
ness is better than riches. Beside, living is 
cheap at Charmoises, and I can resume my 
projects of stock raising.” 

Maurice stopped short in his reflections. 
He had forgotten Mme. Andr^zy! Impos¬ 
sible to bring Catherine where she would be 
Huberte’s neighbor! Then, what was to be 
done? A bright, though not very generous 
idea came to his mind. Catherine would 
ask her brother-in-law to remove Huberte 
from Amay-le-Comte. 

One day, however, he received a letter from 
Catherine which made him realize the ab¬ 
surdity of this portion of his plans. She 
told him of Huberte’s visit and confession. 
Maurice shuddered. Would Catherine love 
him less after learning of his short but vio¬ 
lent fancy for Huberte ? A woman’s heart 
is so complicated; in her hour of triumph 
she is jealous of the former mistresses of her 
lover or husband. They are so many rivals 




282 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


and enemies whom she has crushed and van¬ 
quished. 

But the two sisters were reconciled. Then 
Catherine would obtain by prayer what 
Maurice had thought of obtaining by con¬ 
jugal authority. And moralists pretend 
that men in love see clearly, because they 
have a foresight of the future! Maurice 
knew Catherine to be so good that he could 
not distrust Huberte, although he knew her 
well. 

The day preceding the usual semi-monthly 
rendezvous, Maurice received, at the same 
time as his daily love letter, a large envelope, 
in one corner of which were inscribed these 
words: ‘‘ Office of M. Lenepveu, notary.” 

“ I wonder who he is,” he muttered. 

Naturally he neglected the notary’s letter 
for that of his fiancee. He carefully read the 
four pages in succession, then reread them 
fragment by fragment, that he might satiate 
himself with that love which palpitated in 
unison with his own. Through a charming 
coquetry, the young woman did not com¬ 
plain of her harsh solitude. But he guessed 
all she would not say; the weariness of the 
long unoccupied hours, following each other 
heavily, and the incurable sadness of loneli- 



HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


283 


ness. Did she not live far away from the 
only being who loved her ? Each day Mau¬ 
rice perused these pages impregnated with 
love, and carefully locked them up before 
going out. It was in doing this that he dis¬ 
covered M. Lenepveu’s neglected letter. He 
had completely forgotten it. 

“What can this worthy notary want with 
me? ” he thought. 

The worthy notary begged M. de Fondeto 
call at his office, No. 15 Rue de la Pepiniere, 
as he had an important communication to 
make to him. Maurice laughed and con¬ 
tinued his monologue, as he walked down 
the Boulevard Haussman: 

“Ma foi, I shall go at once. It will not 
delay me, as I am only going to the club. 
How many persons in m3" place would be in 
a flutter of expectation! But I have no rela¬ 
tives and no expectations. Bah! it must be 
some country gentleman wanting to buy 
Les Charmoises.” 

However, when he reached the notary’s 
office he had completely forgotten the motive 
of his visit, and was thinking only of Cathe¬ 
rine. His meditations were abruptly broken 
by the chief clerk: . 

“ M. Lenepveu is expecting you, Monsieur,^ 
he said. u Pray come into his private office. 




284 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


The notary of to-day little resembles the 
notary of the olden times. So it is with the 
usurer, the broker, the money-lender des¬ 
cribed by Balzac; they are all rejuvenated 
and renewed. M. Lenepveu was young, 
and lived like a young man. As he went a 
good deal in society, he knew M. de Fonde 
by reputation. 

“I wager, Monsieur, that you little suspect 
the motive which prompted me to write to 
you?” said the notary smiling, when they 
had exchanged the first greetings. 

“No, Monsieur, I admit it,” said Maurice. 

“ Will you allow me a question which may 
appear indiscreet ? ” 

M. Lenepveu possessed an honest face; 
evidently he did not speak for the pleasure of 
a useless chat. 

“Ask me whatever you wish, Monsieur,” 
replied Maurice. 

“ Are you rich, Monsieur de Fonde ? ” 

“ It is then a question of marriage? ” 

“Oh! no!” 

“Thank you.” 

“I would not have taken the liberty of 
disturbing you for such a disagreeable af¬ 
fair!” 

All this was said in a light bantering 



HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


285 


tone, and yet Maurice felt that the notary’s 
questions contained something serious. 

“Let us come to the point,” resumed M. 
Lenepveu. “You are the great-grandson of 
M. Defon, proprietor of a bathing establish¬ 
ment, Rue St. Honore, who was ennobled by 
Louis XVIII.” 

“Yes, Monsieur.” 

“ Have you ever heard of a younger brother 
of your great-grandfather, who fled to the 
United States to escape imperial conscrip¬ 
tion ? About the year 1808—” 

“Yes. Although only a petit bourgeois , 
the head of my family was a passionate 
Royalist. The bathing establishment of 
which you speak, often served as an asylum 
for M. de Vitrolles and his friends. It is a 
perpetuated legend in our family. It was 
only natural that Napoleon I. should have 
tried to enroll by force my great-grand-uncle, 
as a punishment for the conduct of his elder 
brother.” 

“Now we are on the right path. You have 
never had any news of the exile? Well, I 
will tell you now his history.” 

Maurice opened his eyes wide in amaze¬ 
ment. An American uncle suddenly coming 
to light. It must be an inheritance, since 



286 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


M. Lenepveu was mixed tip in the affair. 
The notary consulted some papers spread 
out before him, then resumed, still smiling: 

* ‘ This exile settled in New York and opened 
a jewelry shop on Broadway. This busi¬ 
ness must have prospered, for his son con¬ 
tinued it.” 

“ Then he had a son ? ” 

“I understand your uneasiness,” replied 
the notary, laughing. But be reassured. Ac¬ 
cording to authenticated documents, copies 
of which I have now before me, M. Defon 
married in 1838, and died a widower, at the 
age of sixty-two, in the year 1850. His sole 
heir, Pierre Louis, was then eleven years of 
age. As the latter died in 1887, at the age 
of forty-eight, many remember him well. 
He was a very active, enterprising and in¬ 
dustrious man. In 1875 he acquired large 
tracts of land in the vicinity of Dead wood, 
Dead wood county, South Dakota, United 
States. You know, or rather you do not 
know, that in the last ten years many gold 
and silver mines of almost fabulous richness 
have been discovered in the far western part 
of America. Louis Defon explored his land 
and found—a silver mine.” 

Maurice’s heart began to beat fast. He saw 



HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


287 


himself suddenly transformed into a rich 
man as if by magic. 

“I need not ask if you are following me,” 
resumed the notary. “ Through the French 
legation at Washington I learn that M. De- 
fon disposed of this property for the sum of 
eight hundred thousand dollars, about four 
million francs. As I have already said, he 
died in 1887, without children, and as you 
are his sole relative—” 

“It is I—” 

“Yes, it is you who are the heir-at-law.” 

There was quite a long silence. Maurice 
wanted time to collect his thoughts. News, 
whether good or bad, always agitates a 
nervous man. 

“It is a romance you are telling me! ” he 
exclaimed at last. 

“This romance is the exact truth, how¬ 
ever.” 

“Then I inherit a fortune of four millions?” 

“I cannot guarantee the amount. Louis 
Defon may have augmented or diminished 
this fortune. All I know is what I have 
learned from the chancellor, who received his 
information through the notary public of 
the French legation. He addressed himself 
to me because I am the notary of the Ameri¬ 
can legation in Paris.” 



288 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


“ One question; for you understand—” 

“ Perfectly.” 

“ Since my uncle died in 1887, why have I 
not been notified of the event before to¬ 
day ? ” 

“ It is very simple. How were we to sup¬ 
pose that M. Maurice de Fonde was the heir 
of M. Defon. We searched, and searched in 
vain. One of your club friends, M. R6n6 
Lestourmel, was recently appointed second 
secretary at Washington. Happening to 
read in the papers the story of this inheri¬ 
tance without claimants, he remembered the 
origin of your name, and mentioned the fact 
to the minister. ’ ’ 

“I understand now. In short, Monsieur, 
what do you advise me to do ? ” 

“ It is very simple. Where was your great- 
grand-father born ? ” 

“Rue des Maraichers, Paris.” 

M. Lenepveu took down a book from one 
of his shelves. 

‘<Rue des Maraichers? I do not locate 
that name. It is a very old one, I suppose. 
If the name of the street has been changed, 
we can easily ascertain what it was called 
under the First Empire. It is curious though 
—the Rue des Maraichers still exists; look! ” 



HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


289 


Maurice read the following line in the direc¬ 
tory: “XX. arrondissement. From the 
Cours de Vincennes to the Rue des Pyr£- 
n£es.” 

“This is what I would advise you to do: 
Go to the registry office of the XX. arrondis¬ 
sement with the death certificate of your 
great-grand-father, which is, of course, 
among your family papers.” 

“No doubt.” 

“If your ancestor was born after 1789, 
you will find his name in the folio of inscrip¬ 
tion; if he was born before 1789, you will 
find a copy of his certificate of baptism; 
these copies were made in all the parishes of 
Paris in accordance with a law passed Sep¬ 
tember 20th, 1792. Let us say for instance 
that the first of the de Fondes was born in 
1780; you will merely have to search in the 
second, third, fourth or fifth year following. 
The certificate of baptism of the younger son 
must be near that of the elder.” 

“ But suppose the elder only was born in 
Paris ? ” 

“ I foresaw the objection. It is serious. It 
is probable, however, that the two brothers 
were Parisians. In those days communica¬ 
tions were difficult. Moreover, during the 



290 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


troubled times that preceded the Revolu¬ 
tion, the petits bourgeois traveled but lit¬ 
tle.” 

“You have foreseen everything, Monsieur. 
I do not know whether I have more admira¬ 
tion for your perspicacity than gratitude for 
your kindness.” 

“Let us simplify matters,” concluded the 
notary. “ Send me your great-grand-father’s 
death certificate and I will undertake the re¬ 
searches, or rather I will choose the registry 
clerk who shall execute them. What reward 
do you promise? ” 

“One, two hundred louis in case of suc¬ 
cess.” 

“Two thousand francs are quite sufficient. 
It is a stroke of fortune for a poor devil of a 
clerk. You may rest assured that, if Pierre 
Louis Defon was born in Paris, you will 
be ready, in a fortnight to pack your trunk 
and leave for the United States. 



XXXI, 

After this rather exciting interview Mau¬ 
rice felt no inclination to go to his club. He 
was dazzled by this unexpected fortune. 
Catherine would then be rich! This woman 
who renounced her husband’s millions to 
marry him, would again find the luxury she 
had scorned for the sake of her love. He had 
not the patience to await the next day. He 
immediately wrote a long, long letter, telling 
her the wonderful story of the inheritance. 
But when Catherine came at the accustomed 
hour, though smiling and cheerful, her first 
words were not encouraging. 

“I have read your letter attentively,” she 
said, “and the success appears to me im¬ 
probable, if not impossible. In fact, every¬ 
thing depends on a birth certificate. Does it 

19 


292 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


still exist ? It is a chimerical hope, after, a 
hundred years.” 

And she tried patiently to destroy the illu¬ 
sions hatched in Maurice’s brain.” 

“I know it is not for yourself,” she said, 
“but for my sake, that you hope for this for¬ 
tune. Do you then imagine that riches are 
necessary to me ? A few millions less, a lit¬ 
tle more of happiness; this is my dream. Let 
us examine the situation coolly. You were 
in perfect ignorance of this relative. If you 
bore the same name, I could understand your 
rights to this inheritance; but the ennoble¬ 
ment of your great-grand father complicates 
everything. Believe me, the clerk chosen by 
M. Lenepveu will return from the XXth ar- 
rondissement in a perfect state of bewilder¬ 
ment. Drive these golden dfeams from your 
mind, and think only of the happy hour that 
shall unite us. Only a few months more.” 

“You are wisdom itself,” he replied. “You 
are always right. Let us say no more of 
this fantastic uncle, but let us speak of you, 
of me, and of our love.” 

It was a beautiful spring day; a bright sun 
smiled from a pure sky, and the cool, pene¬ 
trating air gently caressed the promenaders. 
The two fiances entered a carriage and 




HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


298 


went to the hois at Meudon, where they 
were sure to meet no one. When they re¬ 
turned, happy after these few hours of an ex¬ 
quisite holiday, Maurice’s ambition had 
vanished. What more could he wish than 
to possess this adorable creature, and devote 
his entire existence to her ? How foolish are 
they who hope for happiness outside of love! 
When they separated he had almost forgot¬ 
ten his visit to M. Lenepveu. There re¬ 
mained but a vague regret in his heart; a re¬ 
gret like that of the miner, who, thinking he 
has discovered a rich vein, strikes only a 
worthless rock with his pick-ax. Two days 
later, he felt completely indifferent to the 
American millions. 

Three weeks glided by thus; Maurice had 
again seen Catherine, who kept him informed 
concerning the progress of the divorce pro¬ 
ceedings. The suit was going on rapidly. 
The president of the fourth section of the 
civil court did not even think it necessary to 
order an enquete. The written and verbal 
testimony of the commissaire de police, and 
the wild kind of life led by M. de Vr£de, 
were such forcible evidence that pleaded in 
favor of the neglected wife, and besides, 
there was public opinion, which always ex- 




294 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


exerts its influence over the decisions of the 
magistrates. The two young people, there¬ 
fore, hoped for a prompt solution; and in 
fact, before the end of June, the Tribunal de 
la Seine rendered a decision in Catherine’s 
favor. She was not present, but was to join 
her fianc6 in the afternoon in the Rue de la 
Baume. From a retired corner of the court 
room, Maurice, with a beating heart, listened 
to the solemn words that freed his beloved 
forever. At last, she could go out into the 
world, leave the asylum in which she had 
taken refuge, announce to all that she would 
soon choose another husband! When he 
entered his apartments he found a volumin¬ 
ous package on his desk. 

“Ah! a letter from M. Lenepveu! ” he 
thought. 

The notary forwarded the birth certificate 
of Pierre Louis Defon, dated October 7th, 
1788, and four pages of supplementary ex¬ 
planations. Maurice required three other 
official papers: the birth certificate of his 
great grandfather; a copy of the Royal 
ordinance authorizing Pierre Louis’ brother 
to call himself de Fonde; and lastly, a cer¬ 
tificate of personal identity. The same day 
that gave Catherine her liberty brought a 





HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


295 


fortune to her fianc6! It was enough to 
make him almost lose his senses. When the 
young woman arrived in the afternoon, she 
carefully read the details given in the notary’s 
letter. This time she made no attempt to 
cool her lover’s enthusiasm. 

“Chance favors you,” she said, smiling. 
“ Buthave you taken into consideration that 
you will be obliged to leave for the United 
States ? ” 

This simple phrase extinguished his joy. 

“ My dear friend,” she resumed, “ don’t be 
a child. You have seen me tranquil and in¬ 
different when I believed your dream could 
not be realized, but now I am ready to scold 
you because you do not think of it seriously. 
M. Lenepveu would not have followed this 
affair to the end if he were not sure of suc¬ 
cess. After all, an unexpected inheritance is 
nothing so extraordinary. And to prove 
that I have taken interest in your story, I 
will trace your itinerary.” 

“You!” 

“Yes, I. You are astonished, But just 
listen. As you know, there are sisters of St. 
Martha in the house of the Ladies of Nazar¬ 
eth. One of these sisters lived a few years 
ago in the western part of the United States. 



296 


HER SISTERS RIVAL 


Well, I have had a long conversation with 
her, and from what she says, I calculate that 
our separation will be for a few weeks only.” 

“ A few weeks ? Even that is too much!’ ’ 

“Do you know whether your inheritance 
is in New York or Dakota?” 

“ I do not know.” 

“ It is probable that the funds are in New 
York, the legal domicile of your relative. In 
that case you would return in a month. If 
you are obliged to go to Deadwood—Let me 
see! From New York to Chicago, twenty- 
four hours, and forty-eight hours from 
Chicago to Deadwood. So your voyage 
will not be so very long. When you re¬ 
turn-” 

“When I return-” he interrupted, kneel¬ 

ing before her. “This is too much happi¬ 
ness at once! I fear that Providence, who 
has united us, may separate us brutally!” 

“I do not share your fears. I believe and 
hope.” 

“ Oh! my darling. Then, I must go ?” 

“ You must go. Only-” 

“Only?” 

She blushingly took refuge in his arms, 
and whispered. 

“Do not go yet. Give me one week, only 
one week.” 



XXXII. 


Maurice had sailed the previous day. Cath¬ 
erine had just received a dispatch, announc¬ 
ing that her fianc6 had taken passage on the 
“Normandie.” How cruel this absence 
seemed to her! “If only no incident pro¬ 
longed it! she thought. The young woman 
had left Auteuil and was now living with 
her friend Jeanne de Noisel. This, however, 
was only a temporary arrangement; the heat 
was becoming unbearable, and Catherine 
was thinking of retiring to some quiet 
country place to await Maurice’s return. 

“What a false position I am in,” she 
thought, sadly. “I have the right to re¬ 
tain M. de Vrede’s name, since the divorce 
was pronounced in my favor; but I am no 
longer his wife, and I am not yet the wife of 


298 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


Maurice. Ah! if I could only go far away, 
far enough to meet no one.” 

One morning she was surprised by a visit 
from Huberte; Huberte, smiling and happy. 

“You! ” cried Catherine. 

“You are surprised to see me in.Paris? 
You will be still more astonished when you 
learn the object of my visit. 1 come after 
you.” 

“After me?” 

“Thanks to your indulgence,” said Hu¬ 
berte tenderly, after she had seated herself 
beside her sister. “I have found peace of 
heart. Since you have so generously for¬ 
given me, I want to prove my gratitude.” 

“ Oh! what an unnecessary word! ” 

“ I want you to do me a favor. It is now 
summer, and you cannot remain in Paris. 
Why not redeem your promise now, and 
come with me to Les Audliettes ? ” 

This proposal pleased Catherine, Did she 
not desire to leave Paris? In other days, 
when the sisters were not good friends, she 
might have hesitated; but now, why not 
accept ? 

“Listen to me,” continued Huberte; “if 
you refuse, I shall believe that you are still 
angry with me. I would be so happy—so 




HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


299 


happy to have you with me for a few days ! 
Are we not soon to be separated forever? 
Your new husband will not allow you to see 
me. And, in fact, I cannot blame him.” 

“ That is true.” 

“It would be my salvation to have you 
under my roof, since instead of hating me, 
you would show yourself so generous. In 
fact, your visit might perhaps effect a recon¬ 
ciliation between M. Garlin-Rueil and my¬ 
self.” 

“You believe so ? ” 

“I will show you my husband’s letter. I 
wrote to him for permission to come to 
Paris! He esteems you so highly! When 
he knows you are at Arnay-le-Comte,hemay 
perhaps consent to come, and then—” 

“ That decides me. If I can serve you, it is 
my first consideration. I will remain with 
you until Maurice’s return.” 

“Is he absent? ” 

“Oh! yes. You did not know! He is on 
his way to the United States. 

Huberte turned her head away to hide the 
light of triumph that came into her eyes. 
Then seizing Catherine in her arms, she ex¬ 
claimed : 

“Then you will come! It is not a false 
hope?” 



300 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


“ I will come to-morrow ” 

“ Very well! we shall travel together.” 
Her sister, her sister in her own home, in 
her power, in her clutches ! During the next 
twenty-four hours Huberte, constantly re¬ 
peated these words. She could not accustom 
herself to the idea that the victim was vol¬ 
untarily offering herself to the sacrifice. And 
once over there, where noone could save her, 
what would she do with her? Kill her? 
Certainh^, she would kill her. This criminal 
idea haunted the excited brain of the jealous 
woman. She was determined. Anything 
rather than see her his wife, and happy. But 
how would she kill her? We cannot suppress 
a being by simply willing it. A murder must 
be executed skilful^ enough to escape the 
punishment of the law. 

During the journey, Huberte was charming 
and most attentive to her sister, whom she 
seemed to consider as a superior being. The in¬ 
habitants of Arnay-le-Comte were naturally 
much surprised at the sudden appearance of 
Mme. Andr^zy’s twin sister. They were so 
absolutely alike that they became the sole 
topic of conversation in this little town, 
where curiosity predominates. 

“Why has she never told us she had a 
sister ? ’ ’ they asked each other. 



HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


301 


Huberte took great pains to reconcile her¬ 
self with everybody. As soon as she had 
installed Catherine in the prettiest room at 
Les Audliettes, she hastened to visit all her 
old acquaintances, Mme. Poppleton as well 
as Mme. Balivet-Lamothe. The Abbe Min- 
gral, however, was the only one she took 
into her confidence, but she begged him not 
to be too discreet, and to sjDread the news 
skilfully through the little town. 

“ I have nothing to conceal from you, 
Monsieur le cure,” she said. “You know a 
great deal about my family, and many 
episodes of my life. My sister is divorced. 
Being a priest, you condemn divorce; but as 
a friend of the family, I beseech you to be 
indulgent.” 

The worthy priest smiled. Severity was 
not his greatest fault, and besides, he had a 
weakness for Maurice. This he proved when 
he learned that Mme. de Vrede would be¬ 
come Mme. de Fonde at the expiration of 
legal delays. The priest disapproved of the 
bad Christian who accepted the new law; 
the man rejoiced over his young friend’s 
happiness. He grew into the habit of visit¬ 
ing at Les Audliettes every day, and as he 
spoke almost continually of Maurice, Cath¬ 
erine loved him at once. 



302 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


Huberte was no longer the same. Her wild 
looks, livid face, and parched lips betrayed 
the fever that burned within her. During the 
day she wandered through the forest, like a 
monomaniac. And when Catherine ex¬ 
pressed surprise, she replied with a con¬ 
strained smile. 

“You must excuse me, dear, I am suffer¬ 
ing.” 

Catherine sighed, for she knew the cause 
of this suffering, and felt a great pity for her 
unhappy sister. 

This unfortunate sister was devoured by 
a sole idea, a tenacious thought, a dream of 
crime! Time was flying fast, Maurice would 
soon return to France, and notwithstanding 
her jealousy, notwithstanding her hatred, 
Huberte had not yet dared execute her 
abominable project! 

“Am I becoming a coward?” she asked 
herself. 

No, she was not a coward. She did not re¬ 
coil from the assassination, but from the 
consequences. 

“I shall kill her—at night—” she muttered 
to herself. “ Yes, in the night—while she is 
sleeping. I will enter her room—one stroke 
of the dagger—all will be over! But after?” 




HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


303 


It was the word “after” that paralyzed 
the fury of the jealous woman. In that gay 
villa, adorned by all the resources of modem 
luxury, and joyously caressed by the rays of 
the sun, a terrible drama was being pre¬ 
pared ; a drama of which Huberte was to 
be at the same time the author and the lead¬ 
ing actress. 

One day, as Huberte returned from one of 
her wanderings, she was met by her sister, 
with a happy smile on her face. 

“I feel like thanking you with my whole 
heart,” said Catherine, “you have been so 
charming since I am here. I was right in 
forgetting the past! You have become the 
sweetest and most exquisite of sisters.” 

“ Catherine—” 

“These four weeks of separation had 
seemed unendurable to me; but thanks to 
your tender vigilance, they have passed 
quickly. Now forgive me if I speak of some¬ 
thing that is painful to you : Maurice will 
be here in a few days.” 

Huberte shuddered. 

“I have just received a letter,” continued 
Catherine, “which came on the steamer that 
precedes Maurice. He will therefore be in 
Havre Monday or Tuesday.” 



304 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


“And — and you are going—going—to 
Havre? ” gasped Huberte. 

“Yes; you cannot imagine how sorry I 
am to leave you, for I can guess the pain you 
conceal from me! But—” 

“ Not another word. Kiss me, dear; and 
be happy, very happy.” 

Huberte was suffocating with rage. She 
had held her rival in her power, and through 
her protracted stupidity she had taken no 
revenge! Through fear, weakness, and 
cowardice! That same evening, while Cath¬ 
erine joyfully announced the good news to 
the abb£, Huberte shut herself up in her room 
and took a determination. She must make 
an end of it! Pale, shaken by convulsive 
shudders, she saw, in imagination, Maurice 
and Catherine in each other’s arms. She 
heard their kisses, their passionate kisses, 
exchanged with such delight after their long 
separation. 

“No! it is impossible. It shall not be,” 
she thought, then she cried aloud : “I must 
kill her! I must kill her!” 

But there was no time to lose; in the ex¬ 
asperation of her over-excited brain, she took 
the fatal resolution: 

“I cannot strike her without striking my- 




HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


305 


self also—so much the better! What do I 
care for death, since he does not love me? 
He wanted both. He will have neither the 
one nor the other! To live? Mine is a 
beautiful life, indeed! My husband con¬ 
demns me to vegetate here without distrac¬ 
tions, without pleasures. The only man I 
ever truly loved abandons me to marry my 
sister. Since I must kill myself, to kill Cather¬ 
ine—let it be a suicide as well* as a murder— 
the die is cast! ” 

The night was not too long to prepare the 
hideous denouement. Huberte knew, or be¬ 
lieved she knew, that asphyxiation by coal- 
gas was not a painful death. She went 
down into the library and took a volume of 
the encyclopedia containing several articles 
on the various modes of suicide. On this 
beautiful summer night, this pretty woman, 
this intelligent, elegant, graceful creature, 
thought only of death, while around her in 
the garden, perfumed by the breath of flow¬ 
ers, the trees, the plants, the rippling brook, 
even the distant sighs of the sleeping plain, 
sang the triumphal hymn of life. She hast¬ 
ily perused the pages of the large volume in 
her hands; suddenly she stopped. Yes, here 
it was! The combustion of coal produces 



306 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 



two gases: carbonic oxyd, which poisons, 
and carbonic acid which asphyxiates. The 
first, being more dense than the air, floats 
near the floor; the second penetrates into the 
system through respiration. 

Huberte had scarcely replaced the book 
when she heard Catherine’s voice calling her: 

“I see a light; is it you, Huberte,” she 
asked. 

“Yes.” 

“ Let me in, I want to say good-night.” 

Catherine coughed slightly as she entered. 

“ I was imprudent enough to go out with¬ 
out a cloak,” she said. “I fear I have taken 
cold ; you were reading?” 

“Yes, while waiting for you.” 

The two sisters kissed. Maurice’s fiancee 
was radiant with joy; his forsaken mis¬ 
tress managed to force a smile to her lips. 

“I am not troubled about you,” replied 
Huberte; “a good night’s sleep will restore 
you.” 

“ I hope so. Sleep soundly.” 

“ Thank you, my darling.” 

Yes, his darling would sleep soundly. 
Especially the next night! And when Hu¬ 
berte was once more alone in her room, 
she completed all her plans. First of all, she 



HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


807 


must invent some excuse to send away all 
the servants the next day after dinner, that 
the two sisters might remain alone at Les 
Audliettes. Nothing more simple. Mme. de 
Yr^de’s approaching departure would serve 
for a pretext. She would send the footman 
to Dijon early the next morning to have a 
harness repaired, or make some purchases. 
The cook slept over the coach house, outside 
the villa. As to Catherine’s maid and the 
faithful Julia, it would be easy to get rid of 
them between eight o’clock and midnight. 
And then ? 

Huberte’s vivid imagination conjured the 
drama beforehand. What would Catherine 
do when she found herself alone with Hu- 
berte? Would there be a struggle between 
them ? Would she not cry out, call for help, 
‘escape perhaps? As these thoughts pre¬ 
sented themselves to her, Huberte became 
more and more calm. Now that her resolu¬ 
tion was taken, she felt sure of the denoue¬ 
ment. Her accursed sister would not escape 
her. And again the deserted mistress re¬ 
peated the terrible phrases: “ Maurice wanted 
both of us. He shall have neither the one 
nor the other!” 

* ¥• * * * 

20 




308 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


The day—a Sunday—dawned bright; a 
balmy summer day. At an early hour Julia 
came into her mistress’ room. 

“ How pale Madame looks!” she exclaimed, 
after she had opened the windows 

“It is nothing. I slept badly. But I am 
uneasy about Mme. de Vr£de; she was 
coughing last evening. Go and see how she 
is this morning.” 

Julia went out and returned in a few min¬ 
utes. 

“Mme. de Vr6de’s cough is worse. She 
begs Madame to come to her,” she said. 

“Very well,” replied Huberte. 

Ah! the beautiful Catherine was suffering! 
Decidedly, fate favored her. 

“My chest is burning somewhat,” said 
Catherine, when her sister entered. 

“You are uneasy because you fear being 
detained here? ” 

“Yes, it’s so.” 

“You alarm yourself too much over a 
little cold. I shall send for the doctor, and 
he will soon drive away your cough.” 

“I am not at all alarmed,”said Catherine, 
with a smile. 

‘ I suppose you want to leave to-morrow ? 
Well, it is better to exercise a little prudence; 




HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


309 


remain in the house all day, and I will send 
for the abb<§, who will be happy to come and 
have a chat with you.” 

Huberte seemed to have recovered her 
cheerfulness and gaiety of former days. She 
spent half an hour writing, and then called 
the footman. 

“Here, Germain,” she said, “take these 
two letters to the town. Then you will catch 
the noon coach for Dijon. Here is the list of 
your errands.” 

“Very well, Madame. But I will not be 
able to return before to-morrow.” 

“I shall not require your services. Ah! 
I was forgetting something. Before you 
go, you will bring the chafing dish from the 
laundry into my dressing room.” 

“The chafing dish?” stammered the as¬ 
tonished servant. 

“Julia needs it to iron some laces under my 
own eyes.” 

Germain bowed and withdrew. 

Catherine was quickly reassured. The 
doctor called before breakfast, and approved 
of Huberte’s advice. 

“You have but a slight cough,” he said, 
“but a draught of air might aggravate it. 
If you desire to leave to-morrow, it is better 




310 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


to be prudent. Resign yourself to the ennui 
of spending twenty-four hours inside the 
house. Take this potion every hour, and all 
will be well.” 

The two sisters breakfasted together. 
Catherine, joyful, because she would so soon 
see Maurice; Huberte, smiling, because she 
forced herself to appear cheerful. She faith¬ 
fully kept her “big sister” company, as she 
jestingly called Catherine. The Abb6 Min- 
gral called on his two fair friends, and pro¬ 
longed his visit until evening. 

“ How good of you to favor us with such 
a long, delightful visit,” said Catherine. “Be¬ 
sides, I feel much better. That potion re¬ 
lieved me.” 

“And the one the doctor has prepared for 
the night will complete your cure.” 

After dinner, Catherine went up to her 
room, which was separated from Huberte’s 
by a dressing-room and a small boudoir. 

“I have some orders to give, dear,” said 
Huberte, “ and will then join you.” 

The orders were short, and their execution 
easy. 

“Julia,” she said, “I will not need you, 
and Mme. de Vr£de also gives a holiday to 
her maid. You may go to the ball at Arnay 
if you wish.” 



HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


311 


‘•Really, Madame, we are both free? ” ex¬ 
claimed the maid, her eyes lighting tip with 
joy. 

“Yes, my child. Only do not stay out 
later than midnight, and when you come in 
be careful to go up the stairs softly. Mme. 
de Vr£de slept so badly last night.” 

Julia overwhelmed her mistress with 
thanks, and promised to carefully observe 
her orders. 

There remained only the cook in the house, 
and Huberte knew she would retire at about 
nine o’clock. 

“At last!” murmured Huberte. “The 
hour has come!” 

And with a light step she entered Cath- 
rine’s room. 

“You shall see what a good nurse I will 
make,” she said, laughing. 

“Good and pretty,” replied Catherine. 

“You need not try to flatter me! I shall 
be pitiless. I will enforce the doctor’s 
orders.” 

“ What are his orders ? ” 

“ That you go to bed early.” 

“Very well. I slept so badly last night! 
Will you ring?—” 

“For your maid. I have given her per- 



312 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


mission in your name to go to the ball at 
Arnay, dear. Was I wrong? ” 

“ Not at all.” 

“If you will kindly allow me to take her 
place—” 

“You?” 

“Will not Madame accept the services of 
her new servant ? ” replied Huberte with a 
little courtesy. 

“ You are delightful, my Huberte, laughed 
Catherine. Come and let me kiss mademoi¬ 
selle my maid! ” 

The two sisters remained locked in each 
other’s arms for a few seconds. Then Hu¬ 
berte assisted Catherine to prepare for bed. 
She still coughed a little, but less violently. 

“I will sit at your bedside and give you 
your medicine,” said Huberte. 

“ Is it as bitter as the other ? ” 

“What a gourmand! It is very sweet. 
Here, taste it,” replied Huberte, as she handed 
the glass to her sister. 

“Thank you,” laughed Catherine. 

And the conversation continued, or the 
monologue rather, for Huberte listened while 
her sister talked. Faithful to her charge, she 
poured the medicine every half hour, and 
with her eyes fixed on the clock she waited. 



HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


313 


About half past nine, Catherine felt a deli¬ 
cious numbness invading her. 

“What is that medicine you are giving 
me?” she asked. 

“I do not know very well; but I believe 
it is to relieve the cough and induce sleep.” 

The vial contained, not a cough mixture, 
but 50 grams of syrup of morphine. A 
quantity easily obtained, as it is not enough 
to make a person ill; merely enough to bring 
about a pleasant sleep. 

“Shut your eyes, dear,” continued Hu- 
berte, “ and I will read to you.” 

She took a book and read a few pages in a 
monotonous tone. Twice again, Huberte 
aroused her almost stupefied sister, and 
forced her to take two more doses. At ten 
o’clock Catherine was asleep. Huberte laid 
her book quietly on the table and arose. 
Standing there, she contemplated her victim 
with tragic immobility; then walking on 
tip-toe, she turned the door-knob; Catherine 
did not move. Huberte then went through 
the house, visited every room; no one was 
there. She then carefully bolted the outside 
door; and all her precautions being now 
taken, she returned to Catherine, who was 
Still sleeping. 



314 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


“Now she is in my power,” murmured the 
murderess. “ Patience, my beloved sister! I 
will awaken you when the time comes. My 
vengeance would be incomplete if you did 
not see yourself die! ” 

She smiled grimly at this atrocious thought. 

“But I must finish my arrangements,” she 
murmured. “The windows—” 

There were two in the room. She carefully 
closed the blinds, then lowered the thick and 
heavy curtains. 

“Now the chafing dish.” 

In obedience to his mistress’ orders, Ger¬ 
main had brought it into the dressing-room. 
Huberte dragged it into the middle of the 
room with great difficulty. Then carefully 
—neglecting no precaution in her work of 
destruction—the wretched woman set fire to 
the coal. 

“All is ready,” she said, with a bitter 
laugh, “ I can now awaken her.” 

She leaned over her sleeping sister. 

“Catherine!” she called, shaking her by 
the arm. 

No answer. 

“Catherine! Catherine!” she repeated 
louder, shaking her more violently than be¬ 
fore. 




































































































HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


315 


Catherine, roused from her stupor, slowly 
opened her eyes. 

“What is the matter? ” she murmured. 

“I will tell you; wake up first. Here, 
drink this glass of water. 

Catherine obeyed without even knowing 
what she was doing. 

‘ ‘ Oh! I was sleeping so well, ’ ’ she muttered. 

“You shall sleep better by-and-by! ” said 
Huberte, in a tone of such hatred and with 
an expression of such concentrated fury that 
Catherine felt suddenly terrified. 

‘ ‘ H uberte—Huberte—is it you ? But no—I 
must be dreaming,” she stammered. 

Huberte stood before her with folded arms. 

“No, you are not dreaming, Catherine,” 
she said. “ Look well at me, sister. We are 
going to die.” 

A shudder ran through Catherine’s body. 
She made a sudden effort to throw herself 
from the bed. But her limbs, numbed by 
morphine, seemed heavy as lead. Huberte 
broke into a mocking laugh, saying: 

“ Don’t you see that you can’t move! You 
have no more strength than a baby.” 

Now was Catherine invaded by an inex¬ 
pressible terror. She felt herself entrapped, 
lost, -without knowing how she was to die. 



316 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


“Let us talk, if you please,” resumed Hu- 
berte, gravely, her brow contracting. “You 
know that I ha ve always hated you—always. 
And you believed in my repentance when I 
asked 3 ^our forgiviness over there at Auteuil? 
Fool!” 

The unfortunate victim tried to rise, to 
struggle. With a slight push, Huberte 
threw her back on the bed. 

“Help! help!” cried Catherine in despair. 

“ Oh ! you may call! No one will hear you. 
There is no one in the house. Even had you 
the strength to open the windows it would 
be useless. The garden is deserted also. I 
have taken all my precautions. Look at 
that coal, that burning coal. It is your 
death and mine! We shall die like grisettes, 
my dear. It is the best I could do ! ” 

Catherine gathered all her remaining energy 
and uttered such a cry for help that the 
murderess was alarmed. But she quickly re¬ 
covered, exclaiming: 

“No, Catherine, no; that’s useless. For I 
tell you again you are lost. And so, my 
dear, you robbed me of the only man I ever 
loved, and you thought I would not avenge 
myself? Listen; Maurice will arrive at Havre 
to-morrow. He will jump into a train. Oh! 




HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


317 


he will be in such a hurry that he will not 
stop on the way. He will come here—he will 
call you—he will ask—where is Catherine? 
—and they will answer—Catherine is in the 
cemetery.” 

Catherine had no strength to reply; she 
was sobbing bitterly. 

“You weep?” continued Huberte. “You 
are a coward. Do I weep? I could not kill 
you without killing myself also. So I sacri¬ 
ficed myself. It is a beautiful full-fledged 
hatred, is it not? We were born together; 
we will die together.” 

She paused a moment; she was becoming 
dizzy; the light and perfidious vapors of the 
coal began to fill the room. 

“All is over, all is over, my dear! Ah! 
your beautiful love! How far away it is 
from you now! Your wedding couch will 
be your grave! I tell you once more: look 
at me well, sister. We are going to die. 
Farewell. We shall meet above—or below— 
or not at all. I know not!” 

Huberte again broke into a mocking 
laugh, as she felt the deadly vapors over¬ 
powering her, and resumed : 

“You, on your death-bed. Me, at your 
side. Both suffocated. This is how they 



818 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


shall find ns to-morrow! Oh! I was for¬ 
getting! What was I thinking of? I did 
not light the tapers! ” 

With a faltering step, Huberte walked to 
the chimney and lighted the candles. And 
the lights shone on these two beautiful wo¬ 
men, so young, so full of life, who would so 
soon be but lifeless bodies! There was a 
short silence, then Catherine uttered a feeble 
cry, like the sob of a child. Then she fainted 
away. 

Huberte leaned over her victim; a flood of 
confused thoughts filled her brain. 

‘ ‘ She will die first, ’ ’ she murmured. ‘ ‘ Only 
I shall suffer, suffer much. More than her! 
What will they say? Where have I heard 
that music before? Oh! what beautiful 
music. Heavens! how my head aches.” 

She made an effort to walk and fell on her 
knees. A new dizziness overpowered her, 

and she fell at full length on the carpet. 

***** 

When Catherine again opened her eyes, a 
flood of fresh air was rushing through the 
open windows. Seated at her bedside was 
the Abb6 Mingral, still quite upset by the 
terrible event. 

“You are very pale, my poor child,” he 
murmured, pressing her hand. 




HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


319 


“And very weak,” she replied. 

Her body felt bruised and shattered, and 
she also felt sharp pain in the region of the 
heart. But she felt she was alive, and very 
much alive. 

“I do not understand,” she rejoined. 
“ What has happened ? ” 

The explanation was very simple. Julia had 
not obeyed her mistress’ orders, and returned 
at three o’clock in the morning instead of 
midnight. Finding the door bolted, she had 
entered through a basement window. As 
she was ascending the stairs a terrible odor 
of coal gas nearly choked her. In her terror, 
she rushed out calling, screaming and weep¬ 
ing. The neighbors were aroused, and broke 
open the bedroom door with axes. 

“This is how you were saved,” concluded 
the abb£, “but unfortunately we were too 
late to save your sister.” 

At the mention of Huberte, Catherine 
trembled with fright. She lived over the 
terrible scene; she again Jieard the burning 
words of the murderess. By a violent effort 
she managed to say: 

“Huberteis then—” 

“ Dead. The doctor has been trying to re¬ 
animate her for half an hour, but in vain.” 



320 


HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


There was some terrible mystery she could 
not understand. Why was she saved and. 
Huberte dead ? 

The worthy abb£ saw the hand of Provi¬ 
dence in this unexpected denouement; but 
the doctor explained it in a less mysterious 
and more probable manner. In a state of 
syncope, life is suspended. As Catherine had 
fainted, she had inhaled very little carbonic 
oxyd. Beside, carbonic acid being heavier 
than the atmosphere, it had remained in the 
lower portion of the room, and had reached 
the level of the bed, where the young woman 
lay, only a few hours later. Huberte, on the 
contrary, overcome by the carbonic oxyd, 
had fallen to the floor, and must have been 
immediately asphyxiated. 

“ Huberte dead!” repeated Catherine, terri¬ 
fied. 

“Fear nothing, my child,” said the abbA 
“No one will suspect the truth.” 

“ Then you know ?”- 

“All. Do not fear. The doctor and my¬ 
self easily reconstructed the drama; but we 
will both be silent. Everybody will believe 
the catastrophe due to imprudence.” 

Catherine buried her face in her hands. 

“ May God forgive her,” she murmured. 



HER SISTER'S RIVAL 


321 


“Now you must hurry and get well,” re¬ 
joined the abbA “Remember that happi¬ 
ness awaits you, and that you have de¬ 
served the joys in store for you. And you 
must be pretty, very pretty, within forty- 
eight hours. You cannot go to meet Mau¬ 
rice, but Maurice will come to you.” 

“Ah! Maurice!” she repeated, her heart 
filling with joy. 

“I cannot bless your union, my poor 
children,” resumed the abb£, shaking his 
head sorrowfully. ‘ ‘ But I wilj pray for you. ” 

“ Ah ! how good Heaven is,” cried Cather¬ 
ine. 

, “Nothing now menaces your happiness. 
You will be my parishioners, will you not? 
You love each other, and the future opens 
before you joyous and smiling.” 

Then the abba’s thoughts sorrowfully 
turned to Huberte, and he added: 

“Yes, God is good, but he is also just.” 


END. 




































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